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MIRIAM’S TOWER 


BY 


HARRIET LORETTA KNAPP 



WICHITA, KANSAS 

WICHITA PUBLISHING CO. 
19 0 9 


Copyright 1897 by G. W. Dillingham Co. 


Copyright 1909 by 
Harriet Loretta Knapp 


SECOND EDITION 


TO MY HUSBAND 


I DEDICATE 
THIS, MY FIRST BOOK. 


4V' 

' ' 


■> 




I 






. ■! 



CONTENTS 


Page 

Prelude — Miriam ..... 7 

I. Miriam’s Tower .... 9 

II. The Elysian Fields . . . .16 

III. Hope ...... 24 

IV. The Tempter and the Strange Bird . 31 

V. The Old Abbey in the Woods . . 37 

VI. Echoes from Miriam’s Tower — ^The 

Story of the Tower . . 44 

VII. Hope’s Dream .... 53 

VIII. Margaret’s Pearl .... 59 

IX. The Lost Ruby .... 74 

X. A White Christmas ... 89 

XI. Winifred’s Star .... 95 

XII. A Garden of Delights . . . 112 

XIII. The Lost Princess . . . .118 

XIV. The Whispering Shell . . .131 

XV. The Lily-Bulb Rooms ... 140 

XVI. Little Blossom .... 148 

XVII. Lights and Shadows . . .164 

XVIII. Betrayed and Forsaken . . . 178 

XIX. One Morning 190 

XX. Miriam 196 

XXI. Hope’s Vision .... 198 

[V] 


MIRIAM. 


Her smile is like a flash of sunlight on a placid lake ; 

Her song, like music of the birds, at dawn when they awake ; 

Her ears caressed by tresses dark, are like the pink sea 
shells ; 

And her infrequent laughter like the chimes of silver bells. 

'Tis those she loves, who from her voice catch the accents 
tender ; 

And only those, who see, full orbed, her dark eyes’ purple 
splendor. 

Her slender form — her airy form, is fraught with matchless 
grace. 

There is a charm — a nameless charm, in her fair girlish 
face ; 

Pensive her face, when in repose, and often chased away 

By sadness, are the dimples that around her lips would 
play. 

Her star-bright eyes look shyly, out through their crisp 
dark lashes 

In sudden joy her proud, sweet face lights up with radiant 
flashes. 


[7] 


8 


Miriam’s tower 


Her white soul looks serenely from the depths of her dark 
eyes, 

Those wondrous eyes that long to catch a glimpse of para- 
dise, 

An earthly paradise, whose bowers and fields stretch out to 
meet 

The Elysian Fields and fadeless bowers, where winds the 
golden street. 

As her spirit eyes peer through the veil they oft behold a 
vision. 

Through gates ajar, that stand before the fields that are 
Elysian. 



MIRIAM 




MIRIAM’S TOWER. 


» 


CHAPTER I. 

MIRIAM’S TOWER. 

In a little tower, in the midst of a shady garden, 
lived dark-eyed Miriam with two faithful com- 
panions. Miriam was the last of her race ; and the 
little tower, the ivy-grown ruins, and the small gar- 
den was all that was left to her of the broad acres 
and magnificent chateau of her ancestral home. 
The garden was surrounded by a low wall. The 
grass was like velvet, in the shade of the wide- 
spreading elms. The graveled walks were bordered 
with flowers — marguerites, forget-me-nots, pansies 
and lilies-of-the-valley, and a white rose bloomed 
close to the southern wall. It was not a sunny 
garden ; but a few rays of sunlight could penetrate 
the interlacing branches of the trees, but it was a 
quiet retreat and always cool and pleasant. 

The tower was of gray sandstone, half covered 
with ivy. It contained but four rooms, one above 
the other. Each room had four windows and be- 

[9] 


10 


Miriam’s tower 


neath each window was a balcony. Miriam loved 
the upper rooms the best. On the third floor was 
a loom, where, every day, like the ‘‘ Lady of Sha- 
lott,” she could be seen with her magic shuttle, 
bright with silken threads, weaving beautiful pic- 
tures into the warp and woof. In one corner of 
the room stood a harp of antique workmanship. 
No one could play this harp but Miriam and none 
but she could understand its wild, sweet melodies. 
And whether at loom or harp, from the time-stained 
walls, the pictured faces of her ancestors were ever 
looking down upon her, and of all this race of fair 
women and noble men, none were left but little 
Miriam. 

The upper room was her parlor and library. 
Upon the polished floor were rich old rugs in queer 
designs. The silken hangings were worn and faded 
but still beautiful. Upon the walls were a few rare 
pictures of Madonnas and the cherub faces of little 
children. In Miriam’s library were many strange 
old books ; these were her treasures ; books of an- 
cient lore, dream books, mythologies, and old 
romances and poems quaintly written. Her gui- 
tar was there and her zithern, and her sewing stand 
with its little baskets of dainty needlework. It 
was a charming room, up among the tree-tops, but 
when sweet Miriam was there, all else was forgot- 
ten ; and when absent, her personality pervaded 
the room like the perfume of invisible flowers. 

The tower was surrounded by scenes most fair. 
From the northern balcony, Miriam’s eyes could 


Miriam’s tower 


11 


penetrate the dim recesses of an old, old forest. 
From the southern balcony she could look upon 
fields of waving grain and sunny pastures where 
the cattle grazed ; and just beyond was a chain of 
purple hills. She longed to know what was be- 
yond the hills, and pictured scenes fairer than any 
she had yet beheld. 

From the eastern balcony she looked down upon 
a placid lake, reflecting the sunlit sky by day, 
and at night the stars lay like gems upon its bosom. 
Beyond the lake was a walled city, she could catch 
the glint of its shining spires and turrets, and hear 
the faint music of the distant bells, and she would 
say : “ Some day I will visit this wonderful city. 

Oh, the beautiful, unexplored future ! It is mine, 
it is mine !” 

She visited oftenest and lingered longest upon 
the western balcony. The scene was dreamy and 
mysterious ; it filled her soul with strange longings. 
On either side of a broad white path, were rows of 
stately poplars, and, at the end of its narrowing 
vista, was a park. When the sun was shining, she 
could catch the gleam of marble forms and the 
glimmer of the fountain’s spray ; and at night it 
was full of little flashing lights, like shooting stars, 
all brightly colored. And on the western breeze 
was wafted faint strains of music, with a delicate 
perfume that no flower of her garden yielded. 

Beyond this park, enveloped in misty splendor, 
there arose on shining heights, white castles and 
stately towers, half hidden in groves of feathery 


12 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


palms. She only caught a glimpse of this won- 
drous scene, when, for an instant, the mists that 
hovered o’er it were lifted, like a silvery curtain. 
She saw that none but lovers strolled along this 
broad white path, and they often parted before 
they reached the park; both turning back, one 
going to the right and the other to the left ; many 
entered the park, some ascending the heights ; 
others wandering there for a season returned, but 
always alone. When she asked her companions 
about the park and the heights they answered : 
‘‘We cannot tell you but perhaps some day you 
will know ; but seek not to know, little one. Why 
do you visit the western balcony so often, have 
you not three others ?” 

O, those calm, untroubled days ! How tenderly 
she recalled them in after years. The valley was 
so fair and peaceful. How pleasant it was to stroll 
with her gentle companions across the daisy- 
starred fields, off toward the purple hills, or 
down by the lake, where they would sit for hours 
watching the white skiffs gliding over the waters. 
And they never tired of gazing across at the glit- 
tering towers and parapets of the great city, and 
wondering what manner of people dwelt there, and 
what kind of lives they were living. They often 
spent the long summer afternoons in the old 
woods. This was the spot that Miriam loved best. 
She gazed with awe upon the great trees, the mon- 
archs of the forest. To her the long shady paths 
were cathedral aisles, and the songs of the birds 


Miriam’s tower 


13 


in the leafy arches were sweet anthems chanted by 
invisible choirs, and the woods were full of mys- 
terious voices that whispered beautiful tales in her 
ears. These tales were often of love, the miracle 
that had not yet been wrought in her. 

One day as she was leaving the forest in the 
early twilight, she saw a man standing with bared 
head, looking up at the trees. As she passed, he 
caught the look of dreamy tenderness in her dark 
eyes. “Ah!” said he, “she knows how to love; 
to be loved by such as she would be heaven.” 
And he followed her, afar off, until he saw her 
enter the garden where stood the little tower. 

That night her dreams were troubled ; and the 
next morning when her companions saw her, pale 
and listless, and anxiously asked the cause, she 
answered with a shiver : “ I had such a terrible 
dream last night. What can it mean ? My dreams 
of the night, like my day-dreams, have always been 
sweet and pleasant. I will tell you my dream, 
then perhaps it will trouble me no more:” 


MIRIAM’S DREAM. 

“ In my dream, I entered a large park where a 
vast crowd of people were assembled together. 
They were restless, eager, expectant of — I know not 
what. It was evening, and the park was brilliantly 
lighted. But suddenly there was a shock as of a 
mighty earthquake ; the lights went out, and we 


14 


Miriam’s tower 


were enveloped in inky blackness, not darkness, 
but dense blackness. There was an exclamation 
of horror that seemed to come as of one voice from 
the great assembly, and I felt the shudder that 
passed like an electric current from heart to heart, 
then all was silent ; it was as the silence of death ; 
and I seemed to stand alone in the chaos of ages 
past, before the Creator had said, ^ Let there be 
light.’ As these thoughts passed through my 
mind, there appeared in the western sky a dazzling 
circle of light, in which were waving and beckon- 
ing hands, black, skinny hands with long, bony 
fingers, and beautiful hands, white and jeweled. 
The skeleton hands beckoned me wildly and threat- 
eningly. The beautiful hands waved me back 
gently but earnestly. The strange vision lasted 
but a moment. When I awoke, cold and trembling ; 
the moonlight lay silvery white across my case- 
ment and out in the calm night I heard the 
drowsy trill of a little bird, and I grew warm and 
ceased to tremble as these words came to me : ‘ I 
will both lay me down in peace and sleep, for 
Thou, O Lord ! makest me to dwell in safety !’ ” 
After a moment of silence, Miriam said to her com- 
panions : “ I have told you my dream, can you 
give me the interpretation thereof ?” 

And Peace answered, “ I think that I can inter- 
pret your dream. I fear that some evil threatens 
you. The skeleton hands are the hands of your 
evil genius beckoning you on to meet this evil. 
The white hands are the hands of your good angel 


Miriam’s tower 


15 


waving you back from the evil that threatens 
you.” 

“ My sister has interpreted the dream aright,” 
said Content. 

“ You are my gooa angels, answered Miriam 
cheerfully, “when you are near no evil can be- 
fall me.” 


16 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER II. 

THE ELYSIAN FIELDS. 

Whenever Miriam left her garden, the stranger 
that she met in the edge of the woods was sure to 
appear. He haunted the woods, he haunted the 
shore of the beautiful lake and the fields where the 
daisies grew. Her companions watched him with 
troubled hearts, and when they warned her to be- 
ware of him, she would caress them and say : 

“I am safe and happy with you. I will stay 
within my garden walls and look upon his face no 
more.” 

But from her balcony she often saw him wander- 
ing in her accustomed haunts, and on starlit nights 
he sang love-songs beneath her balcony, and her 
heart was thrilled with this strange new melody. 

One morning when Miriam was walking in her 
garden he came, this lover, to whom she had never 
spoken, opened the gate and walked boldly in, and 
standing before her, he said : 

“ Come with me, my little love ; come with me 
to the Elysian Fields.” 

Where are the Fields Elysian she asked. 

He pointed to the broad white path and said: 

That leads to the Fields Elysian. Come, I 
have the golden key that unlocks the gate. I will 
lead you through all the flowery paths of this won- 


THE ELYSIAN FIELDS 


17 


derful park and up to the Shining Heights that are 
called Love’s Consummation.” 

As he drew her toward the gate, remembering 
her dream and the warning of her companions, she 
withdrew her hands from his clasp and said : 

“ I cannot go with you. Tempt me no more.” 

She then turned away, not trusting herself to 
listen to his pleadings. As she entered the tower. 
Peace and Content clasped her in their arms and 
said : 

“ Be careful little one, trust not the stranger.” 

After that, for many days, Miriam stayed within 
her tower walls, or, if she walked in the garden, her 
companions were with her. But one moonlight 
night her lover sang beneath her balcony ; his 
heart was in his voice and her heart responded to 
the song. The next morning when he entered the 
garden, he found Miriam alone. 

“ Come, my love,” said he, “ the morning is very 
fair, come just a little way down the white path 
and listen to the music.” 

She hesitated, but the morning was so beautiful 
and his voice so tender and persuasive, that she 
could resist no longer, so she went with him, just 
far enough to catch the strains of heavenly music 
and scent the perfumes of the flowers, then hur- 
ried back to her tower. 

Every day he came, and each morning she went 
with him a little farther and a little farther down 
the broad, white path. The Elysian Fields grew 
more and more beautiful as she approached them. 


18 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


and the music became more and more ravishing. 
But it was the music of his voice, his words of love 
that thrilled her soul. At last, one morning, they 
reached the gate and he held the golden key in his 
hand and said : 

‘‘ Now, my love, I will show you all the beauties 
of the Fields Elysian. Look at the ripening fruits 
hanging low upon the trees ; look at the great 
white lilies and the crimson roses ; come I will 
gather them for you, then together we will ascend 
the Shining Heights.” 

As she listened to his words and beheld the 
beauty of the park her heart was filled with long- 
ings inexpressible. But as he unlocked the gate 
she drew back affrighted and stood looking at him, 
pale and trembling. 

must go back,” she said, “all these years I 
have been safe and happy in my little tower with 
my faithful companions ; they are ever kind and 
gentle. Perhaps you will not always be kind, you 
may tire of your little Miriam and forsake her.” 

Then he took a solemn oath, swearing that he 
would never forsake her, and calling upon the gods 
to witness his oath. 

Then he clasped her in his arms and kissed her 
and all doubts and fears fled before that first kiss. 
He unlocked the gate and with eager steps they 
entered the Fields Elysian. 

Time sped on iris-hued wings as they wandered 
through mazy windings, listening to the music of 
invisible orchestras ; lingering by the fountains and 


THE ELYSIAN FIELDS 


19 


gathering the flowers and golden fruits, as they 
drew nearer and nearer to the Shining Heights. 

The tower and the garden were forgotten by 
Miriam ; all the past had become dim in the rap- 
turous joy of this new existence. But one day a 
little cloud appeared, to mar the azure beauty of 
the sky and when she said to her lover regretfully : 

“ There is a cloud in our beautiful sky,” he swept 
his eyes across the heavens and answered, “ It is 
only a little cloud.” 

But the next day other clouds appeared and 
when Miriam again expressed her regret he said 
carelessly : 

“ The clouds are as natural as the sunshine.” 

She shivered at his words, then he caressed her 
and the clouds were forgotten. But the following 
day a heavy cloud obscured the sun. 

And she said, “ O, my love, the cloud is very 
black to-day !” 

And he answered, coldly, “ This life is not all 
sunshine.” 

At his words a flash of lightning shot athwart 
the sky followed by the sound of distant thunder. 

Then she clasped his arm and cried in pleading 
accents, “ Oh, my love, let us hasten to the Heights 
before the storm bursts upon us ; see the little 
winding path is near, we can soon reach the shelter 
of the white castle, the beautiful white castle within 
the silvery mists.” 

“ We need not hasten,” said he, the storm is 
afar off.” 


20 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


Miriam said no more but with sinking heart she 
watched the face she loved growing cold and hard 
beneath her gaze. They lingered at the foot of 
the Heights until the sun sank like a ball of fire 
behind the castle walls, flooding the silvery mist 
with crimson and gold ; and, as the wind moaned 
through the trees and the lightnings played around 
the lofty turrets, the false one spoke and these 
cruel words pierced the heart of Miriam : 

“ All is ended now ; I am weary of the Elysian 
Fields. I have lost my desire to ascend the 
Heights. Your reproachful glances move me not. 
I have given you joys that you could not have 
tasted but for me. It was I who carried the 
golden key that unlocked to you all these pleasures 
that were to you unknown. I have even made it 
possible for you to see the Shining Heights in all 
their splendor. I have given you much and 
robbed you of nothing. You still have your tower, 
your garden and the companions you loved so 
much. Now you can go back to them, you will 
not lose your way if you keep your eyes fixed 
upon the little tower that you were so loath to 
leave.” 

“ But your broken promises,” she cried, “ your 
broken vows, what of them ? Oh, my love, my 
love, do not forsake me.” 

But he heeded not her cry. And as he walked 
away a black shadow glided out from the gathering 
gloom and followed him ; and, as she stood in 


THE ELYSIAN FIELDS 


21 


dumb agony looking after his retreating form, 
these words fell from her white lips : 

The black shadow is the ghost of my dead 
happiness, and it will follow you, O my false love ! 
until you come back to me.” 

All through that black tempestuous night 
Miriam lay prone upon the wet turf where her 
destroyer had left her, unmindful of the storm that 
beat upon her slender form, so much fiercer was 
the storm raging within her heart. When the 
morning dawned all was calm. The sunlight and 
the singing birds seemed to mock her misery. 
She arose from the wet turf and gave one last 
despairing look at the Shining Heights, then 
turned her face toward the east and dragged her 
weary form back through the paths where she so 
lately roamed with her false lover, then so beauti- 
ful, now so dreary. 

She kept her eyes fixed upon the little tower 
and as she drew near, a faint ray of hope pene- 
trated her sad heart and, hastening forward she 
said, 

I still have my tower, my garden of sweet 
flowers and my beloved companions. How grieved 
they will be for poor Miriam ; what words of com- 
fort will fall from their sweet lips and how tenderly 
they will take me in their arms and soothe me ; 
but they can never heal my broken heart.” 

The sun had set before she reached the tower. 
When she opened the gate she found the garden 
filled with weeds instead of flowers and the vines 


22 


Miriam’s tower 


hung black and dead upon the walls of the tower. 
Her heart was filled with terror when the door 
yielded not, as she raised the latch. 

Then she rapped, calling loudly, “ Open, open to 
me, my dear ones. It is your little Miriam come 
back to you. Your poor little Miriam, forsaken 
and alone.” 

Then the door was opened cautiously and a 
gaunt figure stood looking at her with firey eyes. 

“ Come in, Miriam,” said a gruff voice, “ I am to 
be your companion now, my name is Despair. 
The white birds have flown, you will see Peace and 
Content no more.” 

Then Miriam rushed past the grim figure and up 
the winding stairs to her room, once so pleasant, 
now so desolate. All night she lay upon the floor 
cold and motionless and Despair stood at the 
threshold brooding over her. And in the gray 
dawn of the morning he approached her and said : 

“ Arise, Miriam, arise ! and I will show you a 
remedy for your woe ! ” 

She arose and said, A remedy, did you say ? 
for this anguish, for this horrible heartache ? O 
tell me the remedy without delay.” Then De- 
spair grasped her little cold hand in his burning 
palm and drew her out on the balcony. 

“ Hurl yourself to the ground, Miriam,” said he, 
“and all will be ended.” 

Shrinking from him in horror, she answered, 
“ I dare not take my life, it is not mine to destroy ; 
it belongs to Him who gave it.” 


THE ELYSIAN FIELDS 


23 


‘‘But your life is spoiled,” said Despair, “what 
are you going to do with the dreary years that are 
before you ? You will never find Peace and Con- 
tent and your false lover will come back to you no 
more. You have nothing to live for, end it now 
by flinging yourself to the ground.” 

But Miriam, standing before him like an accus- 
ing spirit, met unflinchingly the gaze of his burn- 
ing eyes and said, “ Leave me, vile tempter ! The 
tender, suffering Christ was tempted by such as 
you. But He yielded not, though He knew that 
Calvary awaited Him.” 

Then Despair answered sneeringly, “ What have 
you to do with Christ } In your extremity, has 
He not forsaken you ?” 

“ No, He will never forsake me if I trust in Him,” 
and, raising her sad eyes to heaven, she cried, “ Oh, 
Christ ! Thou who hast known all of suffering, for- 
sake me not in my extremity.” 

Then Despair fled from her presence hiding him- 
self in the lower room of the tower. 


24 


MIRIAM’S TOWER 


CHAPTER IIL 

HOPE. 

One morning as Miriam walked in her desolate 
garden, she found a flower that had not been 
choked by the weeds, a little white lily-of-the- 
valley, and as she stood caressing it a cheerful 
voice at her side said, Good morning, Miriam.” 

She turned and saw a tall, fair woman smiling 
upon her. Her blue eyes were large and bright 
and her cheeks like the heart of a rose. 

“ My name is Hope,” said she, I have come to 
dwell with you. We will drive away Despair and 
I will be your companion. 

Miriam’s sad face brightened as she clasped the 
hands of the fair stranger and said : 

“Welcome, sweet Hope, welcome to Miriam’s 
tower, and promise me, Hope, that you will never 
forsake me.” 

“ I will stay with you as long as you need me,” 
answered Hope, “ and now let us rid the garden 
of weeds.” 

“ It is a hopeless task,” answered Miriam, “ and 
the flowers are all dead.” 

“ No, they are not all dead, some are only 
choked ; we will pull a few weeds to-day and a 
few to-morrow and so on and on until none are left. 





HOPE 









HOPE 


25 


Then we will plant new flowers and pull down the 
dead vines and plant others.’' 

Hope and Miriam drove Despair from the tower 
and from the garden and locked the gate ; but he 
ever lingered near, watching them day after day 
as they pulled the weeds and planted the garden 
anew. A few of the sweet old flowers remained. 
The new plants grew, but refused to bloom ; and 
the new vines only put forth pale tendrils. 

One morning as Miriam and Hope were walk- 
ing in the garden, Hope said, “We have cleared 
the garden of weeds and planted it anew ; now let 
us go to the room that contains the wonderful 
loom and when we have straightened the tangled 
threads, you shall weave me a picture of flowers.” 

They found it a wearisome task ; and many of 
the brightest threads were wasted. But Miriam 
took the threads that were left, eager to begin her 
task. Every day she sat at her loom weaving 
from morning till night ; but when the picture 
was finished it was only a wreath of faded 
flowers. 

Hope turned the picture to the wall and said, 
“ Come, Miriam, here is your harp, touch the 
strings and the music will cheer your sad spint.” 

How can I play on a harp with broken strings,” 
asked Miriam. 

“ They are not all broken,” answered Hope. 

But when Miriam swept her fingers actoss the 
strings a strain of mournful music filled the room 
like the wailings of a broken heart. Then Hope 


26 


Miriam’s tower 


covered the harp and covered the loom and closed 
the shutters and leading pale Miriam out, she 
locked the door and they entered the room no 
more. 

After that, in the morning and in the early even- 
ing of each day Miriam and her companion could 
be seen on the balconies looking for Peace and 
Content. When they were on the north balcony 
Hope would say, “ Look, Miriam ! do you not see 
two white forms coming through the wood ?” 
Wh 11 on the southern balcony she would say, 
“ Look across the fields, what is it, so white, that 
the sunlight falls upon ?” and from the eastern 
balcony they would watch the skiffs upon the 
lake, and Hope would say, “ Some day you will 
see them sailing across the lake from the walled 
city.” But when they visited the western balcony 
they sat in silence, Miriam gazing with mournful 
eyes towards the Shining Heights; while Hope’s 
bright eyes were scanning all the paths, she saw 
not Peace and Content, but often in the distance, 
she would catch a glimpse of a familiar form, al- 
ways followed by a black shadow. As the days 
went by, full of disappointment, sweet Miriam’s 
face grew paler and sadder and Hope’s blue eyes 
lost their brightness and the roses faded from her 
cheeks. But one bright morning when the lake 
was calm and blue as the sunny arch above it, sud- 
denly a new light flashed from Hope’s blue eyes 
and a rich color leaped to her cheeks and she said, 
‘ My Miriam, why sit we here waiting for those 


HOPE 


27 


who never come ? Let us cross the lake and search 
the walled city for Peace and Content.” 

“ The walled city !” exclaimed Miriam, can we, 
dare we cross the lake and visit the great city, just 
you and I alone ?” 

“ Have no fear, little one,” said Hope, ‘‘ we can- 
not get beyond God’s care. ‘ He neither slumbers 
nor sleeps. The earth is His footstool and His 
watchful eye sweeps the universe.’ ” 

Miriam laid her soft cheek against Hope’s and 
said, “thank you, dear, I am not afraid, let us go 
without delay.” 

They were like new beings as they floated away 
across the lake. Singing and laughing merrily 
while their bright faces were turned toward the 
city, that grew more and more beautiful as they 
approached the shore. And as they entered the 
city they were overwhelmed with its vastness and 
its magnificence. The next day the search began. 
With untiring feet they wandered through the 
broad, sunny streets and shady parks ; through 
dim cathedral aisles and up, up the winding stair- 
ways of old, old towers, and they could be seen 
exploring the palace gardens ; haunting the ruined 
castles ; wandering among the tombs in ancient 
cemeteries standing for hours upon the arched 
bridges that spanned the winding river ; watching 
the passers-by, and they would often mingle with 
the crowds visiting the museums, the picture gal- 
leries and music halls. While Hope was ever 
watchful, she was continually striving' to divert 


28 


Miriam’s tower 


Miriam’s thoughts from the errand that brought 
them there, by directing her attention to the scenes 
of beauty that surrounded them. The castles, the 
towers, the parks, the fountains, the singing birds 
and the flowers. But Miriam, remembering the 
Elysian Fields, would answer sadly : 

These flowers, compared with the flowers I 
once looked upon, are as blades of grass, and their 
fragrance, compared with the fragrance of the 
flowers I loved too well, is like the perfume of 
flowers long dead. These fountains are beautiful, 
but the fountains that I once beheld seemed to be 
tossing diamonds, rubies and pearls into the sunlit 
air. And when I remember the sculptured forms 
gleaming within the foliage of the Fields Elysian, 
these statues are but images of clay. I love the 
music of these singing birds ; but the bright-winged 
birds of the Elysian Fields sang nothing but hymns 
of praise. I look upon these lofty towers, these 
castles and palaces with admiring eyes, but when I 
recall the dazzling splendor of the white castle 
upon the Shining Heights, they seem like piles of 
stone as yet untouched by the builder’s hand.” 

One morning Miriam and Hope lost their way 
and in trying to retrace their steps they found 
themselves on one of the poverty-stricken districts 
of the great city. It was then that Miriam forgot 
her sadness, forgot the Elysian Fields and the 
errand that brought them to the city, so full of son 
rows and sympathy was her tender heart for these 
unfortunates. They lingered there for many days, 


HOPE 


29 


cheering the discouraged, comforting the afflicted, 
soothing the sufferer, and giving bread to the starv- 
ing ones, and when they left, the prayers and the 
blessings of the sorrowful ones followed them. 

Only a half hour’s rapid walk from the abodes 
of poverty, brought Miriam and Hope to one of 
the most beautiful parks of the city ; and being 
weary, they entered and seated themselves under a 
weeping willow near a cooling fountain and watched 
the rich and fashionable ones of the great city, 
driving in their elegant carriages along the shady 
avenues. This careless, brilliant throng in con- 
trast to the poverty and wretchedness they had so 
lately witnessed, was depressing to the sympa- 
thetic girls, and Miriam said : 

“ These cannot know what the others are suffer- 
ing, or they would give of their abundance, until 
this woful contrast between God’s creatures would 
exist no more. There is enough in our Father’s 
great storehouse for all of his children, none 
need to be hungry or shelterless. Oh, will there 
never be another ‘ Golden Age ?’ I dreamed last 
night that Virgo and Themis had left their home 
among the stars, and come back to reign on earth. 
I saw them sweeping down the milky way in white 
garments, star-bedecked, waving their farewells to 
frowning Jupiter, proud Venus, rosy Mars, and all 
the shining throngs. You and I, sweet Hope, had 
climbed to the summit of a lofty mountain peak 
that pierced the clouds, touching the last star in 
the arch of the Milky Way. But as they approached 


30 


Miriam’s tower 


so near that we could see their faces, shining as the 
sun, a black cloud swept between us, hiding them 
from view and I awoke.” 


THE TEMPTER AND THE STRANGE BIRD 


31 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE TEMPTER AND THE STRANGE BIRD. 

The time of departure had come. Miriam and 
Hope had searched the walled city in vain. 
Peace and Content could not be found there. 
They left the city with heavy hearts ; but as they 
were crossing the lake Hope’s face grew cheerful 
and she said : 

‘‘ Perhaps Peace and Content have come in our 
absence and are awaiting us at the tower. 

But when they reached the tower they found it 
empty and Despair lurking among the weeds in 
the garden. And in the days that followed Hope 
grew weak and Despair grew strong and drove her 
from the tower and the garden and poor Miriam 
was again in his power. And one day he stood 
before her in the upper room and said mockingly, 
“Are you not tired of this loneliness, Miriam? 
Did I not tell you the truth ? Peace and Content 
have not come back to you, and where is your false 
lover ? I saw him but yesterday; his face was like 
flint and his face is an index of his heart. He was 
followed by his “ shadow ” and I followed him 
and laughed to see him shrinking in terror from 
this black mystery. There is only one way to 
escape but he will not accept it, for there dwells 


32 


Miriam’s tower 


within his breast a demon, blacker than the 
shadow that follows him, and this demon is ever 
whispering in his ears these words, ‘ There is no 
harm in crushing a human heart. It is not true 
that a drop of blood from a wounded heart leaves 
a stain upon the soul for eternity. Broken vows 
are nothing, you have done no harm, neither have 
you lost anything. Life is complete without love. 
Love is but a myth and fear not the black shadow, 
it will soon fade away.” 

*‘Then Miriam exclaimed, “ Oh, where are the 
pitying angels ! the guardian angels of our lives, 
why are they not whispering in his ears the sweet 
truths that might make his life blessed and his soul 
stainless for eternity ?” 

Then said Despair, “ the good angels have for- 
saken him, even as they have forsaken you. The 
future has nothing in store for you but misery ; 
grief will not kill you, your young veins are too 
full of warm, red blood. No, you will live to 
drain the cup to its bitter dregs.” 

Then drawing near to Miriam, he said : 

‘‘As you crossed the lake, did you look down 
into the water and note how deep and calm it was ? 
and did you think how peacefully one might rest 
in its quiet depths, free from all sorrow and heart- 
ache? To-night when the moon appears above 
the western heights, flooding the lake with silver, 
go, sad Miriam, and give yourself and your sorrows 
to the beautiful lake.” 

Miriam answered not, but pointed to a picture 


THE TEMPTER AND THE STRANGE BIRD 


33 


on the wall, the picture of Christ crowned with 
the cruel thorns, and, as she looked into the suf- 
fering face, a sweet peace stole into her heart, 
driving out the anguish, and when she turned. De- 
spair had fled from the accusing face upon the 
wall. He was seen no more in the upper rooms 
but guarded with unceasing vigilance the outer 
door at the foot of the tower. But one fair morn- 
ing Hope returned strong and rosy. There was a 
struggle at the gate ; Hope entered and Despair 
was cast out. Up the winding stairs she sped with 
bounding steps and found Miriam alone in the 
upper room and they were soon clasped in each 
other’s arms, laughing and weeping for joy. 

Miriam said, ‘‘ Never leave me again, sweet 
Hope ; without you I am desolate.” 

‘‘ We will be separated no more,” answered 
Hope. 

That night, as they were seated upon the eastern 
balcony, their white forms bathed in the soft efful- 
gence of the moon, Miriam’s heart was light once 
more. The bitterness of the past was forgotten, 
only sweet memories hovered near her like white- 
winged spirits from some unspoiled Eden. She 
lightly fingered her guitar, and then began 
singing : 

MIRIAM'S SONG. 

If I were a bird at his casement I would sing 
From morn till night ; 

Folded should remain each little golden wing, 

Not seeking flight, 


34 


Miriam’s tower 


Till he should feel within his heart music divine, 

And from his soul, the melody flowing back to mine. 

If I were a little brook I’d sing for him alone ; 
Babbling of love 

As I danced the pebbles o’er, leaping from stone to 
stone. 

While from above 

I’d woo the gentle breeze to whisper in his ear 

Of the sweet long ago, once to him so dear. 

If I were a lily, pure and white, each bloom 
His hand could win. 

And all the richness of the rare perfume 
Would be for him. 

Or, if I were a buttercup, it would be sweet 

As he passed by to softly caress his feet. 

One morning, as Miriam entered the upper room 
of the tower, she found perched above the picture 
of the Madonna a blackbird. It was sitting upon 
its claws with folded wings and head drawn down 
into the feathers of the neck. Miriam tried to 
drive the bird from the room through the open 
window, where it had entered during the night, 
but the bird refused to leave its perch upon the 
picture-frame, and moved not a feather, but only- 
followed with.its half-closed eyes, the waving scarf 
in Miriam’s hand. 

At this moment Hope entered the room and said, 
“ What have we here ? A visitor that arrived in the 
night while we were sleeping ? And what are you do- 
ing, Miriam? You are not very polite to your 
guest. He is rather of an ungracious-looking bird, I 


THE TEMPTER AND THE STRANGE BIRD 


35 


must admit ; perhaps he is one of the black spirits 
of the Night, belated and caught by the Dawn be- 
fore he could escape to the dark caves in the 
regions of Night, where these spirits hide them- 
selves like bats from the light of the sun.’’ 

“ I am sure it is a bird of evil omen,” said Miriam. 

Let us drive it from the room.” 

Be not hasty, my dear,” said Hope, “have you 
not heard that ‘ we may entertain angels unawares ?’ 
Let me interview this stranger before we drive him 
away.” 

At these words she placed a chair beneath the 
picture where the bird was perched, and stepping 
upon it, she reached up her hand and stroked the 
breast of the bird, saying, “ Who are you, my 
bonny bird ? why are you here and whence came 
you ? have you journeyed far to visit Miriam and 
me, or have you come to dwell with us in Miriam’s 
vine-draped tower ? Speak to me, my bonny bird 
I am your friend, and you are welcome here.” 

Then a transformation took place that delighted 
the astonished girls. Suddenly the bird arose on 
its slender legs, opened wide its brilliant eyes, and 
raised from the black feathers of the neck, a silver 
crest tipped with scarlet, and when it spread its 
wings and tail, ruffling its plumage, the girls dis- 
covered that one side of each long feather of the 
wings and tail was golden, and the plumage that 
covered the body was one-half silver, but when 
folded the black overlapped the silver and gold. 
The bird circled round and round the room, flaunt- 


36 


Miriam’s tower 


ing its brilliant plumage before the eyes of the be- 
wildered girls, then again perching above the 
picture of the Madonna, it began to sing. The 
melody was so entrancing that the girls stood spell- 
bound, scarcely breathing until the song was 
ended. 

The strange bird lingered at Miriam’s tower, fil- 
ling the rooms with music and brightness. He was 
not a prisoner but came and went at his pleasure, 
through the open casements. He loved the lofty 
turrets and the treetops, but sang his sweetest 
songs when perched above the picture of the Ma- 
donna in the upper room of the tower. 


THE OLD ABBEY IN THE WOODS 


37 


CHAPTER V. 

THE OLD ABBEY IN THE WOODS. 

One morning, when the girls were on the south- 
ern balcony, Miriam, looking off at the hills, and 
said wonderingly, “ How I long to know what is be- 
yond the purple hills.” 

“ Let us go to-morrow and see what is there,” 
answered Hope, I have heard that there is a quaint 
old village, half in ruins, at the foot of the hills, on 
the other side. 

We will visit the village to-morrow,” said 
Miriam, “ Peace and Content may be dwelling 
there.” 

In the early morning of the next day the girls 
left the tower and wended their way across the 
dewy fields all bright with daisies. The meadow- 
larks were singing gleefully. Now and then a 
mother bird would fly up from the grass at their 
feet with a shrill cry, but when they stopped sud- 
denly for fear of treading upon the nest, they would 
find by careful search that no nest was near. 

“ Oh, the cunning little mothers !” said Miriam, 
“ they leave the nest at a safe distance and creep 
through the grass to deceive us. We will not get 
a glimpse of a little birdling or a nest of tiny eggs 
to-day.” 


38 


Miriam’s tower 


But finally, not far away, they saw a bird, with a 
wriggling worm in her beak, settle down in the tall 
grass, close to a wild rose bush. They stealthily 
approached the hidden nest, but the mother bird 
had taken alarm and before they reached the spot, 
she arose in the grass before them, screaming and 
fluttering in the air. 

‘‘ It is no use, little mother,” said Miriam, ‘‘ we 
are going straight to the nest and have a peep at 
your babies.” 

And there they were, sure enough, four little un- 
fledged birdlings with open mouths, crying for food, 
quite unconscious of danger. The mother bird had 
followed them and the angry mate was there, and 
other birds came at the cry of distress, screaming 
as they darted at the laughing girls. 

“ Let us go,” said Hope, “ or they will peck out 
our eyes.” 

But when a little way off, they stopped to -watch 
the victorious birds swinging on the rosebush and 
singing in great glee over the routing of the 
enemy. 

The sun was high in the heavens when they 
reached the summit of the hill they wished to 
cross, and looked down upon the little village where 
the locust and willows were waving o’er its half- 
deserted streets and ruined towers, and where the 
unmolested ivy, ever creeping upwards, fastens its 
clinging tendrils in every niche and crevice, as it 
drapes its glossy leaves o’er broken columns and 
crumbling walls, hiding from curious gaze the decay 


THE OLD ABBEY IN THE WOODS 


39 


of age and unsightly scars left by the fierce storms 
of the centuries. 

“ The ivy,” said Hope, is like the mantle of 
charity that Christ taught his children to wrap ten- 
derly around the weak, erring ones, hiding their 
infirmities from the mocking world.” 

“Yes,” answered Miriam, “even in nature God 
shows his tender compassion.” 

When they had descended the hill, they entered 
the quaint old village, and Miriam said : 

“ Why did we search the great city by the lake 
for Peace and Content 7 It is to just such a calm 
and .peaceful spot as this they would come.” 

For hours they roamed through the quiet streets, 
passing under broken arches, with their drapery of 
vines ; crossing the mossy bridges, standing in awe 
before the ivy-grown ruins of an ancient monastery 
and resting upon the worn steps of the old stone 
chapel in the shadow of the huge crucifix that had 
withstood the storms of many winters. After in- 
quiring of priest and peasant, and searching the 
village o’er and o’er, they found not Miriam’s lost 
companions. Peace and Content. 

As they were leaving the village, they saw a man 
enter it from the other side. He walked rapidly, 
looking eagerly about him. And wherever he went 
he was followed by a black shadow. As Miriam 
watched him with tearful eyes, she said : 

“ Perhaps he, too, is searching for Peace and 
Content.” 

As Miriam and Hope walked back across the 


40 


Miriam’s tower 


fields at the close of the day, there was a delicate 
perfume in the air. A mingling of wild roses, 
clover and elder blossoms. Soft music was afloat 
on the breezes ; the good-night songs of the little 
birds, the drowsy hum of insects and the murmur 
of the winding brook, whose source was in the 
purple hills. Hope gathered daisies and wild 
roses along the way, but Miriam plucked here and 
there a great golden sunflower until her hands 
were full of them, and as she pressed them to her 
heart, she said : 

‘‘ I love the sunflower because it is an emblem 
of constancy. Poor Clytie ! when Apollo proved 
false to her, she would look upon nothing but the 
sun ; and the great sun loved her and transformed 
her into a flower, the sunflower. And her face is ever 
turned toward him, who never fails her. Through 
all the ages they have been true to each other.” 

One morning, many weeks after Miriam and 
Hope had visited the little village beyond the 
purple hills, Hope said to Miriam, “ You are 
growing sad and depressed, and last night I saw 
Despair lurking in the shadows of the garden. I am 
tired of the tower and so are you. I long for the 
woods and I know that you love to wander there. 
Far in the depths of the forest is an old, old abbey, 
where many find rest from the noise and turmoil 
of the world. Peace and Content may be linger- 
ing there within its walls and shady gardens. Let 
us go to-morrow and search for |the old abbey. 
Every hour the deep-toned bell rings from its 


THE OLD ABBEY IN THE WOODS 


41 


lofty tower, echoing through the forest to guide 
the weary traveler to this haven of rest.” 

Miriam sprang to her feet and said, “ Why should 
we wait until to-morrow ? Let us go to-day. Come, 
the morning is fair and I am longing for the scent 
of the mossy old woods.” 

As the girls left the tower they saw not Despair 
hiding in the shrubbery, nor heard the low laugh 
of derision that followed them as they closed the 
gate. When they entered the woods, Miriam was 
transformed, her eyes were shining ; her cheeks 
were flushed and her laughter echoed through the 
leafy arches and, as she followed Hope along the 
winding paths, she said gayly : 

“ I seem to have winged feet like Mercury, the 
little messenger of the gods. Are the voices of the 
wood speaking to you, Hope ? They are saying 
such wonderful things to me.” 

Then Hope looked smilingly into Miriam’s face 
and began chanting : 

If we walk through this fair world with unseeing eyes 
Unsympathizing hearts and dull ears, 

Untrained to catch the music of the spheres. 

We miss half the beauty of the earth and skies. 

Tis joy to feel the grass caress our feet ; 

And to know that each gentle breeze 
That laughs and plays among the leaves, 

Loves to fan tired brows, and cool the flushed cheek. 

The flowers nod and smile as we pass by, 

Why should we not return their mute caresses ? 
The floating lilies and the water cresses 
Look up with grateful hearts into the sky. 


42 


Miriam’s tower 


The cool dim woods are full of whispering voices 
And how restful are the placid lakes 
Beneath the willows, fringed with sedgy brakes; 

The earth’s so fair, each little bird rejoices. 

When Hope had finished her song, Miriam said, 
“ Yes, the world is very fair. It is only God’s chil- 
dren who complain. The little birds are rejoicing 
this morning. I understand their language and even 
the leaves are bringing sweet messages to me. I 
think that in some former existence I was a wood 
nymph. You know that the wood nymphs perished 
with the trees that had been their abodes. I have 
a strange affection for the trees ; I cannot look 
upon one that is being felled ; every stroke of the 
ax hurts me, I have to flee from the sight and stop 
my ears to the cruel blows. Tell me, Hope, why 
are you smiling? Oh, I know, you are thinking 
that perhaps in that other existence I was Diana’s 
favorite nymph, that garrulous ‘ Echo.’ ” 

“ No, my dear,” answered Hope, if Echo had 
been like you. Narcissus would not have preferred 
death to her embraces.” 

Then Miriam said sadly, “You have forgotten, 
sweet friend, the sad story of Miriam and her 
Narcisus.” 

The girls had penetrated deep into the forest 
before they heard the first faint echo of the dis- 
tant bell, and the day was far spent when the old 
abbey burst open their view in all its ancient beauty. 
The ivy-grown towers and parapets, the lofty tur- 
rets and slender spires were all aglow with the 


THE OLD ABBEY IN THE WOODS 


43 


rays of the setting sun and when the chime of 
bells rang forth, filling the echoing forest with 
anthems of praise, Miriam clasped her hands and 
raising her enraptured face to heaven, cried in 
quivering accents, “ Oh God, Thou art my Father 
and though all the world forsake me yet will I 
trust in Thee !” 

They lingered for days at the old abbey and, 
although Miriam found not there the gentle com- 
panions of those happy days before the destroyer 
came, yet, in her heart, she carried away from this 
sacred spot, so much of faith and trust and peace- 
fulness, that with Hope ever at her side, she 
ceased to grieve and search for those sweet com- 
panions, lost to her forever. 

When Despair saw Miriam and Hope returning 
with their hands full of flowers and mosses, hiding 
himself behind a broken column of the ruined 
chateau, he peered through the drapery of vines, 
and when he saw Miriam’s calm face and caught 
the new light that beamed from her beautiful eyes 
and noted Hope’s majestic tread and radiant face, 
he fled forever from the spot where stood sweet 
Miriam’s tower. 


44 


Miriam’s tower 


ECHOES FROM MIRIAM’S TOWER. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE STORY OF THE TOWER. 

It was the twilight hour ; Miriam and Hope had 
been out on the balcony watching the changing 
splendor of the sunset clouds. The marginal clouds 
of gray, flooded with golden light, had gradually 
overspread the entire heavens. A shower gathered 
in the east almost obscuring the city beyond the 
lake ; and the rainbow that spanned the eastern 
sky, slowly faded away as the sun sank behind the 
Shining Heights. The golden light faded from 
the clouds and a sudden downpour of rain drove 
the girls from the balcony. They were silent for 
a while as they sat in the upper room listening to 
the patter of the rain and the complaining cry of 
the orioles in the sycamore tree, close to the west- 
ern balcony. 

Hope was the first to speak. 

“Tell me, Miriam,” said she, “what are you 
thinking of so intently ?” 

“ I was thinking of my little tower. Did you 
know that it had a history of its own ? I found an 


THE STORY OF THE TOWER 


45 


old manuscript, written by one of my ancestors, 
that contains the history of the tower. I know by 
your face that you are anxious to hear it. Shall I 
read you the manuscript or tell you its contents ?” 

“ Oh, tell me the story of the tower, here in the 
twilight, to the music of the rain, beating upon its 
mossy walls.” 

“ When you have heard the story of the tower,” 
said Miriam, ‘‘ you will understand how fitting it is 
that your little Miriam should be dwelling here.” 

THE STORY OF THE TOWER. 

My tower, began Miriam,” was built many 
years after the main chateau, by my great-great- 
uncle, Claude Lorenze. He was the only son and 
heir of the chateau and the vast estates that 
surrounded it. He was a magnificent fellow, brill- 
iant, handsome and noble, so states the narrator, 
the pride and idol of his family, which consisted of 
father, mother, two sisters, and little Alene, a dis- 
tant relative, who, being left a penniless orphan at 
an early age, was adopted into the family and so 
much of tenderness and affection was lavished 
upon her, that she never knew the meaning of 
orphanage. This little dainty, clinging creature 
was the pet of the stately mother and queenly 
daughters of the house of Lorenze and was the 
betrothed of the son and heir of this noble house. 
He bestowed upon this little winsome girl all the 
deep and ardent love of his strong nature ; in his 
true and noble heart she reigned supreme. He 


46 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


had one friend whom he loved as a brother. Their 
friendship commenced at the university where 
both were educated and they were companions in 
their travels abroad. This friendship w^as of such 
a close and intimate nature that at the university 
they were known by these various cognomens, 
‘Damon and Pythias,’ ‘David and Jonathan,’ 
‘ Theseus and Pirithous.’ The mysterious attrac- 
tion that opposite natures have for each other must 
have drawn these two men together. Leister Arden 
was fair and slender, with a face as delicate and 
beautiful as a woman’s. He was a poet and an 
artist and was winning and fascinating to a wonder- 
ful degree. Claude had told this friend of the 
story of his deep and all-absorbing love for little 
Alene, and brought him to the chateau to paint 
her picture and he was to remain until after the 
marriage, which was to take place a few months 
later. As Claude’s friend, he was warmly wel- 
comed and treated as a son and brother by the 
noble family. The portrait progressed but slowly^ 
as the artist was only allowed certain hours of the 
day for confining himself to work. 

“ During those long summer days much attention 
was given to a little tower that was being erected 
at the sunny southeast corner of the • chateau. 
Nothing but the walls connected it with the 
chateau. It could only be entered from the out- 
side. It was called Alene’s tower, as Claude was 
having it built to gratify a sweet whim of hers. 

“ One moonlight night when she and Claude were 


THE STORY OF THE TOWER 


47 


walking in the garden (it was a blissful evening to 
Claude, for she had just named the wedding day), 
as they reached a seat by the fountain, Alene said: 
‘ Let us sit down and look at the chateau, how 
fair and stately it appears in the moonlight ! I 
have been so happy here that I do not wish to go 
away, not even for a bridal tour. Build me a little 
tower, Claude, at this sunny corner of the chateau 
and let us spend the first month of our honeymoon 
there, seeing no one but our attendant. Let us 
have four rooms, one above the other, with bal- 
conies at the deep windows, and four little turrets 
with open casements, where the birds can build 
their nests in the summer, and in the winter be 
sheltered from the storm. The upper room, with 
hangings of crimson and gold shall be our boudoir. 
The silver and white room beneath, will be the 
bridal chamber, and the room on the second floor 
shall be our library, and the dining-room shall be 
on the ground floor. No one will see us during 
that month, only as they may catch glimpses of us 
in the upper balconies. But they will hear our 
voices in song and the strains of my harp as the 
music floats out through the open windows. And 
every year at the anniversary of our marriage, we 
will repair to the tower for a month, seeing no one ; 
and thus, year after year, we may live over and 
over again those blissful days.’ Here Miriam 
paused and said : ‘ So familiar am I with the man- 
uscript that I can almost repeat its contents word 
for word. The narrator goes on to say that the 


48 


Miriam’s tower 


tower was built and furnished just as planned by 
little Alene, and all was in readiness for the bride 
and groom before the day appointed for the wed- 
ding. Those long summer days of quiet happiness 
were never forgotten. No shadow of impending 
evil marred their brightness. As the wedding day 
drew near, Alene grew pale and nervous, and, one 
day, while trying on one of the exquisite garments 
that was being fashioned for her, she began to 
tremble and burst into tears. Then, laughing ner- 
vously, she said : ‘ Don’t you see how tired I am ?’ 
At another time, she fainted in her wedding dress, 
and the mother said : ‘ Poor little one ! She is but 
a delicate child, the excitement and the trying on 
of so many garments has exhausted her; we must 
be more careful in the future.’ 

The wedding morning dawned at last ; a calm, 
fair morning, without a cloud to mar the perfect 
azure of the sky. The breakfast hour had come, 
the family were assembled in the dining-hall, but 
neither Alene nor Leister had appeared. One of 
the servants was sent to call Leister, and the 
mother said to her daughter Mildred (who, by the 
way, was my great-great-grandmother), ‘ Go, my 
dear, and bring Alene down.’ Mildred left the 
room but soon returned, her face was very white, 
and she held in her trembling hand, a sealed letter 
which she gave to her brother. The room was 
silent as death, and every eye was fixed upon him 
as he tore open the envelope. The letter was but 
brief, and when he had finished it, his stern. 


THE STORY OF THE TOWER 


49 


ghastly face was terrible to behold. He dropped 
the open letter on the floor and staggered from 
the room. And the writer tells us that he shut 
himself up in the tower, and they saw him no 
more for days. Mildred picked up the letter, 
and in a trembling voice, read these lines, addressed 
to Claude : 

“ ‘ It is midnight. Leister is waiting for me below. 
I had thought to go away without leaving any mes- 
sage for you, but I am forced to write a few lines 
— not to plead with you to forgive me, for I know 
that would be in vain. None of you, who have 
been so kind to little Alene, will ever forgive her. 
I thought that I loved you, Claude, but it was only 
as a sister loves a brother. But my love for Leis- 
ter is an overpowering passion that I cannot resist. 
I should never do wrong, for wrong-doing is horri- 
ble to me. No one but God knows what I have 
suffered in the last few weeks, and am now suffer- 
ing ; but I love him so much that I cannot resist 
him. I know that retribution will follow us ; but 
do not curse us, Claude, oh, do not curse us! 
Farewell forever 1 Alene.’ 

“ The narrator gives a touching account of that 
day of gloom. Instead of wedding festivities 
there was mourning at the chateau. The shutters 
were closed and the rooms darkened, as though 
death had entered there. The servants were sent 
forth upon the swiftest horses to tell the wedding 
guests that the marriage would not take place. 


50 


Miriam's tower 


They were to put spurs to their horses as soon as 
the message was delivered, waiting not to be ques- 
tioned. The house servants hastened, by order of 
the master, to remove all traces of the festivities. 
No member of the household, not even the lowest 
servant, was allowed to partake of the rich and 
delicate viands that had been prepared for the 
wedding feast. But all was gathered into baskets 
and distributed among the poor. Each basket was 
covered with flowers — exquisite flowers, torn from 
the lofty rooms they had filled with beauty and 
perfume, fated to brighten the habitations of the 
poor instead of gracing the festive halls. The 
dainty garments of the wedding trousseau were 
folded and laid away in the wardrobes of Alene’s 
room, as we fold and lay away the garments of the 
dead. The room was darkened, the door was locked^ 
and they entered it no more. Just as you and I, 
sweet Hope, closed the room that contains the 
broken harp, the loom with the tangled threads and 
the picture of faded flowers ; that fatal room that 
was once the silver and white bridal chamber. 

At the chateau, the names of the fugitives were 
never mentioned. Only once Claude spoke of 
them to his mother : 

“ This is a double sorrow,” said he, “ that will em- 
bitter my whole life. I have not only lost my love, 
but havje been robbed of her by my friend, whom 
I loved and trusted as a brother.” 

The writer states that from that day he was a 
changed man ; he was never heard to laugh, and 


THE STORY OF THE TOWER 


51 


seldom smiled ; a silent man, mingling but little 
with the world, but ever ready to come forth at 
the call of the wronged and the oppressed. To 
the poor he gave abundantly of his wealth, and in 
the solitude of his lonely tower he wrote books 
that will be read as long as the world stands, be- 
cause from their fair pages a human heart, chast- 
ened and purified by suffering, speaks to other suf- 
fering hearts in words of deep and holy sympathy. 

“ Have you his books ?” interrupted Hope. 

“ Yes ; and how often they have soothed my 
troubled spirit. Perhaps while writing those sweet 
passages that comfort my heart, he had a vision of 
Miriam, the last of her race, deserted by a false 
love as he was deserted, and like him seeking ref- 
uge in the lonely tower. 

“ Once, while Claude was stopping for a few days 
in a distant city, he stood before the window of 
the morgue, and there, stretched upon a marble 
slab, was the form of his false friend, so changed 
that he would not have recognized it, but for the 
name posted above. As no one claimed the wasted 
body of the suicide, the man whom he had so 
cruelly wronged gave him a Christian burial. 
And by inquiry found that Alene had been dead 
many years and was buried among strangers in a 
distant land. 

“ Afte^ the discovery of the fate of the two beings 
once so dear to him, Claude became more silent 
and gloomy than before, separating himself almost 
entirely from human companionship. It had been 


52 


Miriam’s tower 


his habit, as the anniversary of that fatal day drew 
near, to shut himself up in the tower, do you un- 
derstand, Hope ? The tower, that is my only in- 
heritance, and remain there for weeks, seeing no 
one but the old and faithful servant who attended 
him. And on the morning of the twentieth anni- 
versary, when the servant entered his room, the 
room just beneath us, Hope, that was called the 
bridal chamber, he found his beloved master seated 
before a table, where the lamp that he had lighted 
the night before, was still burning. He was appar- 
ently sleeping with his head resting against the 
velvet cushion, and the servant noticed with awe, 
the look of perfect peace that rested upon his face. 
He spoke his name but he answered not ; he 
touched his arm but he moved not ; he laid his 
hand upon his forehead, it was icy cold ; the weary 
heart had found rest at last ; and upon the table 
in the lamp’s ruddy glow, lay the miniature of his 
false love and his false friend.” 


hope’s dream 


53 


CHAPTER VII. 
hope’s dream. 

It was a dreary night in autumn, Miriam and 
Hope were alone in the upper room of the tower. 
All day, from the low hanging clouds the rain had 
been falling and as night approached the wind 
arose, whirling the wet leaves, swaying the trees, 
and beating the rain against the window-panes. 
Miriam had closed the shutters and all was bright 
and pleasant within. The logs blazed high in the 
wide fire place and the room was filled with the 
fragance of the flowers blooming in the deep 
embrasure of the south window. Hope was seated 
in her favorite chair, her golden head thrown back 
against the purple cushions, her cheeks were like 
the pink carnations she wore at her belt, and a 
smile played about her lips as she turned her starry 
eyes to sweet Miriam, and said : 

“ This has been a dreary Thanksgiving day and 
now, as it is drawing to a close, I will sing you my 
Thanksgiving hymn ; then I will tell you a dream 
that Morpheus sent me last night, or rather in the 
gray of the early morning.” 

“ A dream,” said Miriam, drawing her chair 
nearer to Hope and fixing her bright eyes expect- 
antly upon her face, I was going to ask you for 


54 


Miriam’s tower 


a story, but I will have the dream to-night and the 
story to-morrow night. Now sing me the hymn, 
then tell me the dream.” 

Then Hope, softly picking the guitar that lay 
across hei; lap, began singing in reverent tones : 

Great Giver of all good, this day 
In thankfulness we turn to Thee ; 

Thy tender mercies, full and free, 

Are fadeless flowers along life’s way. 

In bounteous gifts we see Thy love ; 

The beauties of this earth are ours ; 

The lofty peaks, the vales, the flowers, 

And all the shining stars above. 

Friendship and love are gifts of Thine, 

The sweetest gifts that earth can know ; 

A glimpse of Heaven here below, 

A symbol of Thy love divine. 

In joy or grief we turn to Thee, 

The music of Thy tender voice 
Can make the saddest heart rejoice. 

Before Thy smile all shadows flee 

When the hymn was finished there were tears in 
Miriam’s eyes, and she said softly, “ Thank you, 
dear, it is very beautiful. Now tell me the 
dream.” 

hope’s dream. 

We were together, Miriam and I, in a beauti- 
ful mountain village. We wandered through the 
streets for a while ; then leaving the village we 


HOPE S DREAM 


55 


crossed the rustic bridge and a winding path soon 
brought us to the entrance of a cafton. Oh, had I 
words to describe the wild romantic beauty of this 
wonderful cafion. Fascinated by its grandeur and 
sublimity, we wandered on and on, gazing up at 
the towering cliffs, pinnacled and turretted like the 
ruins of ancient castles, and peering down into the 
gorge where a mountain stream dashed over the 
glistening rocks. As we emerged from the cafion 
a sunny plateau was spread out before us and in 
the centre of the plateau, surrounded by willows, 
was a lovely lake. The willows, the rushes and the 
tall velvety cat-tails were distinctly mirrored in its 
depths and upon its bosom were exquisite water- 
lilies and white swans were playing in the water. 
So enchanting was the scene that we forgot that 
‘ time is fleeting ’ until we saw the sun disappear 
behind the distant peaks. Then taking a farewell 
look at the beautiful lake, we hastily entered the 
cafion and walked rapidly toward the village. As 
the twilight deepened, the cafion in its mysterious 
grandeur was like some dim cathedral aisle, grow- 
ing dimmer and darker, until just as we reached the 
narrowest and most dangerous path, darkness 
enveloped us like a pall. We stopped for a 
moment terrified and bewildered. Miriam clasped 
my arm and said in a whisper : 

“ ‘ We shall perish here in the darkness, we will 
meet death in the gorge below.’ 

“ I had been watching a black cloud far in the 
eastern sky and it seemed to crown the summit of 


56 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


a lofty mountain peak, transforming it into a vol- 
cano with crater of inky blackness, and just above 
this strange cloud, there now appeared a little 
shining star. 

“ I said to Miriam, ‘we must fix our eyes upon 
that little star and walk straight ahead, never veer- 
ing to the right or to the left and it will guide us 
safely through the cafton.’ Then hand in hand, 
we walked on with our eyes fixed upon the star. 
Once Miriam said in a frightened whisper, ‘ Hark ! 
I hear a low growl ; I believe some wild beast is 
near us.’ And I answered, ‘ Fear not, little sis- 
ter ; ’tis only the wind moaning in the caverns. ’ 

“ And again she said, ‘ There are two men walk- 
ing behind us, O, I am afraid ! We are lost ! We 
are lost !’ 

“ I answered, ‘ Be not afraid, God is walking be- 
side us in the darkness.’ 

“ The black cloud in the eastern sky had been 
slowly creeping up toward the star. 

“ Suddenly Miriam said, ‘ Look, the black cloud 
has swallowed up the little star, now we have noth- 
ing to guide us.’ As she spoke the cloud parted 
to the right and to the left, like sable curtains 
drawn back by silver cords and the full moon burst 
forth in all its splendor, flooding the cafion, the 
snow-capped peaks, the stream, the mountain 
daisies at our feet, and the church spires of the 
village with a dazzling light. As we stood gazing 
in rapture at the wondrous transformation, the two 
men came up and passed us. One carried a little 


hope’s dream 


57 


sleeping child in his arms ; its head lay upon his 
shoulder. It had the face of a cherub and the 
long yellow hair shone like gold in the moonlight. 
The other man carried a basket of white lilies. 
We walked behind them toward the village, inhal- 
ing the fragrance of the lilies and gazing upon the 
lovely face of the sleeping child. As we entered 
the village, Miriam exclaimed : 

‘ Oh, the beautiful lilies ! I love them better 
than any other flower.’ 

Then the man who carried the lilies turned and 
selecting the most perfect one, gave it to her with 
a smile. This man had a face never to be forgot- 
ten, so noble and kind, and she took the lily from 
his hand and pressed it to her lips. The child 
awoke and smiled upon us ; then Miriam bending 
forward with the lily still pressed to her lips, after 
gazing for a moment into the dark, tender eyes of 
the smiling child, dropped the lily and held out 
her arms, exclaiming passionately : ‘ Give me the 
child. Oh, give me the child !’ 

“ At the sound of her voice, the man turned, their 
eyes met ; and their faces were illumined. He laid 
the child in her arms and clasped them both to his 
heart, then I knew that the little child was Love. 
It had been sleeping but now it was awake. I 
picked up the lily Miriam had dropped, the sweet 
white lily her lips had pressed, and hid it in my 
bosom. And here my dream ended. When I 
awoke, it was the early dawn of Thanksgiving 
morning. My lily was gone; but its exquisite 


58 


Miriam’s tower 


fragrance seemed to pervade the room, and hang- 
ing upon memory’s wall was a rare new picture 
that can never be effaced.” 




-Margaret’s pearl 



Margaret’s pearl 


59 


CHAPTER VIII. 

MARGARET’S PEARL. 

It had been snowing since morning ; large 
flakes steadily falling. The day was still and it lay 
where it fell, covering everything with its white- 
ness. A rare picture for that sunny clime. Even- 
ing had come. Miriam and Hope were standing 
by the window looking out at the snow-covered 
ruins of the old chateau and admiring its weird 
beauty. White and ghostly in the moonlight stood 
the walls, the broken columns and parapets, the 
arches and the ruined towers. 

“ It is the snow lying upon the ivy that makes it 
so beautiful,” said Miriam, it is all wreathed in 
snow. It is seldom that the old chateau is arrayed 
in bridal robes, or are they funeral vestments ? I 
seem to see tombs below and white-sheeted forms 
gliding among them.” 

“ I almost see them myself,” interrupted Hope, 
with a shiver. 

Then they laughingly closed the shutters and 
drew near to the fire, where a log was blazing 
brightly in the deep grate. 

“ You must tell me a story, Hope, to dispel 
these ghosts,” said Miriam. “ Let it be of a golden- 
haired girl, on the white sea beach, watching and 


60 


Miriam’s tower 


waiting for her lover to sail in from across the sea.” 
Hope. smiled and said, “You had better tell the 
story yourself, my dear.” 

Then for awhile she sat looking thoughtfully into 
the fire, until Miriam, rocking in her low chair, be- 
gan tapping the floor impatiently with her tiny slip- 
pered foot. 

Then Hope looked up and asked, “ Have I ever 
told you the story of Margaret’s Pearl ?” 

“ Margaret’s Pearl,” repeated Miriam, “ no you 
have never told me the story. Was it a pearl of 
great price, and did Margaret sell all her possessions 
to buy this wonderful pearl? Or did her lover bring 
it to her from some far country ? Did she wear it 
pendant to a slender chain about her white neck, 
or was it set in a band of gold that encircled her 
dainty finger ? Or, perhaps it was too precious to 
wear and she kept it in a silver casket, lined with 
violet plush and locked with a golden key. But 
tell me the story, Hope. I know that I shall love 
sweet Margaret, yet envy her the pearl.” 

MARGARET’S PEARL. 

“ A young girl was walking to and fro upon the 
white sea beach, every motion of her slender form 
was full of grace ; her hair, loosened by the breeze, 
glittered like gold in the sunlight ; her fair face 
was very sad as she watched the ebb and flow of 
the tide. It was a perfect day, the sea was calm, re- 
flecting the blue of the cloudless sky ; white skiffs 
were dancing upon the waves and in the distance 


Margaret’s pearl 


61 


was a ship faintly outlined against the western 
horizon and in the east was a chain of lofty moun- 
tains, whose peaks were crowned with everlasting 
snows. And nestling there between the moun- 
tains and the sea, was the fisherman’s village. The 
neat white cottages with their little gardens and 
vine-draped porches made a simple and pleasant 
picture, in its contrast to the grandeur of the 
mountains and the vastness of the sea. 

“ The young girl upon the beach was now stand- 
ing motionless, looking off across the ocean, and as 
she sang in mournful strains, a group of barefooted 
children in front of a fisherman’s cottage stopped 
their play and listened to the song. And a little 
girl raising her finger, said, ‘ Hark ! it is Margaret’s 
Pearl singing to the sea.’ Then they crossed 
themselves, murmuring a prayer to the Virgin and 
walking toward the beach they stood a little way 
off with grave faces, listening to the song. 

“ And one of them said, ‘ I heard mother say, this 
morning, that it was a year to-day since the prince 
was found, half dead upon the beach ; Margaret’s 
Pearl remembers ; that is why her face is so white 
and her song so sad.’ 

“ The quiet fisherman’s village seemed quite re- 
moved from the world, but it was of the world, 
for in this little village all the holy and sacred 
passions of the human heart had their sway. A 
little removed from the village, standing upon a 
sunny slope, is the quaint stone church with its 
ivy, its cross and its shining spire, pointing toward 


62 


Miriam’s tower 


the sky. And near it, in the midst of a garden, 
brilliant with flowers, stands a rambling old house ; 
its gables, dormer windows, balconies and verandas, 
half covered with ivy and half hidden by the stately 
elms that surround it. This is the home of the 
priest, his sister Margaret and Margaret’s Pearl, as 
she is called by the villagers. 

It was now thirty years since the priest came to 
the squalid fisherman’s village, built his house and 
brought his little sister Margaret to live with him. 
They were orphans, he the eldest of a large family, 
she the youngest, all were dead but these two. 
The priest was many years older than his sister. 
He was father, mother, sister and brother to little 
Margaret and she was the idol of his heart. There 
had been a dark page in his life’s history that she 
knew not of. He came here to forget, if possible, 
the sad tragedy of his life. Here he found a 
people that needed him, and there was plenty of 
work to do ; the squalor of the village was soon 
changed to comfort and prosperity ; he loved his 
people and they loved and reverenced him. Father 
Osmond was indeed a father to them, sympathiz- 
ing with them in their joys and in their sorrows, 
looking after their temporal as well as their spirit- 
ual needs ; a good shepherd watching his flock 
with untiring vigilance, unwilling that even one 
should go astray. Under the teachings and com- 
panionship of her brother, the little Margaret grew 
into fair and perfect womanhood. ‘ Rare, pale 
Margaret,’ stately and sweet as the lilies that 


Margaret’s pearl 


63 


grew in the old garden ; the pride of the village, 
beloved by all and satisfied with her quiet joys 
until Lucean came — fair, blue-eyed Lucean with 
his winning voice and sunny smile. Lucean, noble, 
tender and true. They met and loved as naturely 
as the flowers love the sunlight. In the little 
church decorated with flowers and sea-shells, there 
was a wedding one bright May morning. All the 
villagers were there in their holiday dress, and 
when Margaret and Lucean entered the church, a 
young girl standing by the door said softly, ‘ Oh, I 
know that they have seen the angels.’ 

“ And the priest, looking into their faces, as he 
pronounced them man and wife, thought of the 
‘ young-eyed cherubims.’ 

'‘After the ceremony, the dainty feast at the old 
house, and the tearful farewells, Lucean took his 
bride away to the home he had prepared for her, 
in a beautiful suburb of a distant city. 

“ They missed Margaret in the village ; her kind 
words and pleasant smiles had made sunshine in 
their hearts and on the Sabbath day they missed 
her sweet voice singing in the little church ; they 
missed her at mass and at vespers and the old 
house was lonely without her. But the heart of 
her brother was cheered by her loving letters, so 
full of unclouded happiness. But alas ! alas ! poor 
Margaret, in three short, sweet years, all was ended. 
Lucean was stricken with fever and died and Mar- 
garet, broken-hearted, returned to the old home, 
bringing with her baby Lucille. The child was 


64 


Miriam’s tower 


her only comfort, she held her continually in her 
arms, talking to her pathetically. 

‘ Oh, my baby, my baby !’ she would say, ‘ you 
are all I have left, they buried your papa out of my 
sight, but I have his own sweet baby, who looks at 
me with his tender blue eyes ; and you have his 
golden hair, my darling, and his winning smile.’ 

“ Then she would strain the babe to her breast 
and cover it with kisses. 

“ But before the year was ended, the child drooped 
and died, and Margaret, white and stricken, stood 
dry-eyed over the little dead form, and said, ‘ God 
has forsaken me.’ 

‘‘ After three days, when they buried the child, 
Margaret had shed no tears, neither had she slept 
nor tasted any food, and all the villagers mourned 
for the babe and for poor Margaret and said, * Un- 
less she weeps, she will die.’ 

“ At evening of the day that little Lucille was 
buried the children carried the pink conch shells 
and placed them around the new-made grave. 
Then upon the little mound they fashioned a cross 
of small white shells and in the morning when 
Margaret came to the grave and saw the border of 
shells and the white cross, she said, ‘ The little 
children are sorry for poor Margaret,” and she 
wept. And day after day she sat by the little 
mound weeping and would not be comforted. 

One day her brother, who had exhausted every 
power of his being trying to soothe her grief, 
found her at the grave weeping and said, taking 


Margaret’s pearl 


65 


her thin hands in his, ^ Grieve not your life away, 
my sister, time heals all sorrow. You are young 
and beautiful ; you will marry again and other little 
ones will come to cheer your heart.’ 

“ ‘ Marry again !’ said she, ‘ Oh brother, you do 
not understand ! I am already wedded ; I plighted 
my vows to Lucean for all time and for eternity. 
When he died my heart was rent in twain, one-half 
was buried in his grave and the other half, filled 
with mother-love, was left bleeding in my breast. 
My soul dwells not here, but in heaven with Lucean 
and my child. Love is immortal ; it is divine, it 
cannot die, it knows no change.’ 

And her brother answered fervently, ‘ Blessed is 
he who possesses this priceless jewel, but woe unto 
him who tramples it under his feet.’ 

One night there was a terrible storm at sea ; no 
one slept in the little village for fear of a tidal 
wave. In the gray of the early morning, when the 
tired villagers were sleeping. Father Osmond, walk- 
ing down to the beach, found a little child, lashed 
to a spar that had been swept ashore by the storm. 
He thought the child was dead ; but as he loosened 
the cords and took the little form in his arms, she 
opened her eyes, looked up into his face and smiled. 
He carried the child to the house and gave her to 
his sister, saying : 

“ ‘ Here, Margaret, God has sent you a baby in 
place of little Lucille, take her, she is yours, name 
her Lucille and grieve no more for the lost one, she 
is safe with the angels.’ 


66 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


“ Margaret clasped the child to her heart and said, 

* No, I will not call her Lucille, there can be but 
one Lucille ; I will call her Pearl. She is a Pearl 
cast up by the sea. Her hair is like the yellow sea- 
weed that floats in with the tide ; her ears are like 
the delicate sea-shells that the children gather on 
the beach ; her eyes are like the cloudless skies and 
as bright as the stars that are reflected in the ocean. 
And oh, her velvet cheeks and little clinging hands ! 
God has not forsaken me but has sent this sweet 
waif of the sea to fill my empty heart and empty 
arms.’ 

“ The child’s little wet garments were of costly 
fabric, exquisitely fine, and delicately fashioned, 
and Margaret always kept her in dainty white gar- 
ments. Little Pearl grew rapidly, she was slender 
and graceful as a fairy and as sweet and gentle as 
she was fair to look upon. The affection and de- 
votion that existed between Margaret and the child 
was beautiful to behold. And this child of the sea 
was the light of Father Osmond’s eyes and the joy 
of his heart. 

“ She filled the old house with sunshine, music and 
laughter ; and yet she was thoughtful and studious 
and always helpful and unselfish. She was beloved 
by the rough fishermen and their wives and the 
children were never so happy as when Pearl was 
playing with them on the beach ; or seating herself 
on the sand with the children around her, she would 
tell them wonderful fairy tales, that no one had 
ever heard before. It was a fair picture that Mar- 


Margaret’s pearl 


67 


garet loved to look upon. Little Pearl, in white 
with her flower-like face and golden curls, sur- 
rounded by the brown-faced children, all looking 
wide-eyed into her dimpled face, as she told them 
her marvelous tales. 

The years brought but few changes to the little 
village by the sea. Life was calm and uneventful, 
but to Margaret and Pearl its quiet joys were very 
sweet, becaused shared together; and their loving 
companionship and thoughtful tenderness made the 
priest almost forget ‘ that dark chapter ’ in his 
life’s history. And to the villagers Margaret and 
Pearl were but little lower than the angels, so kind 
and gracious were they to all ; there were none that 
had not felt the clasp of their hands and the sun- 
shine of their smiles falling upon them. In sickness 
and in sorrow they were always near, to comfort 
and to help. They twined the funeral wreaths and 
the bridal garlands and lovers came to them, and 
poured into their willing ears their tales of disap- 
pointment or of joy. 

Through all these years the grave of little 
Lucille was never forgotten. Every day in winter 
as in summer Margaret and Pearl laid fresh flowers 
upon the little mound in the churchyard. Margaret 
grew more beautiful with the years ; not a line 
marred the calm beauty of her face ; and there 
were no threads of silver in the dark braids that 
crowned her queenly head. Her dark eyes were 
luminous with the mysterious light that is only 
given to those who have seen beyond the veil. 


68 


Miriam’s tower 


Pearl had blossomed into sweetest womanhood, 
endowed with every witching charm and girlish 
grace ; blythe and merry as the birds singing in 
the old elm trees, but lacking not sweet dignity and 
seriousness. 

“One morning Margaret said to her brother, ‘ It 
is eighteen years ago to-day that the storm brought 
our precious Pearl to us and we are going to have 
a storm to-night. The sky is copper color and the 
angry waves are lashing the beach, just as they did 
the day before that night of terror, eighteen years 
ago.’ 

“ As her brother was about to reply. Pearl burst 
into the room with glowing cheeks and loosened 
hair and said breathlessly : 

“ ‘ Uncle, we are going to have an awful storm, so 
the fishermen say, they have just come in with their 
boats. The sea-gulls are flying near the shore and 
the stormy petrels are screaming at the wind. I 
have so longed to see a dreadful storm, like the one 
that tossed me on the beach eighteen years ago. 
Oh, I love the storm and the waves for bringing me 
to you and mamma.’ Then she kissed them both 
and continued : ‘ I do hope we will have another 
storm like that, God will take care of the ships.’ 

“ Pearl had her wish gratified ; a wilder storm 
never beat upon that shore. All night they watched 
it in its awful grandeur. Pearl clinging to her uncle 
and Margaret, terrified at the fury of the shrieking 
winds and thundering waves. But the morning 
dawned at last. The storm had spent itself, but 


MARGARET S PEARL 


69 


the waves still rolled high and black clouds were 
scudding across the gray heavens. As Father 
Osmond, accompanied by Margaret and Pearl, 
was walking toward the beach in the early morn- 
ing, a fisherman came running to meet them, and 
said, excitedly : 

“ ‘ There is a man lying upon the beach, I think 
he is dead.’ 

“ The priest said to Margaret and Pearl, ‘You 
had better go back to the house, my dears ’ 

“ But Pearl said, ‘ Mamma, let us go with uncle, 
the man may not be dead.’ 

“ So together they hastened to the beach, and 
there, lying with his white face upturned to the 
sky, was the form of a young man, apparently life- 
less. The face, noble and handsome, was made 
more ghastly in contrast with the jet-black hair, 
brows, and long black lashes that touched the white 
cheeks. Upon the strong white hand that lay 
across his breast, glowed a splendid ruby, the only 
touch of color upon the inanimate form. Father 
Osmond knelt beside the prostrate form, placing 
his hand over the heart, then springing to his feet, 
exclaimed, ‘ There is life !’ 

“Then, motioning to the group of fishermen 
standing near, he said, ‘ Lift the man carefully 
and bring him to the house.’ 

“And there, in the guest-chamber of the old house, 
Margaret and her brother did everything in their 
power to restore the man to consciousness, and it 
was hours before their unceasing efforts were re- 


70 


MIRIAM’S TOWER 


warded. But at last the stranger opened his eyes, 
looked about him and asked in a feeble voice, 
‘Where am I, and what has happened to me ?’ 

“ The priest answered, ‘ My son, you were ship- 
wrecked in the storm of last night, and now you 
are safe in the home of Father Osmond. But you 
must not talk, there will be time enough for that 
by and by.” 

“ The stranger smiled and closed his eyes wearily. 

“In a few days he was sitting up, and recovered 
rapidly, because of his splendid constitution. He 
had told them his name, Rudolph Lome, and 
something of his history ; but he dwelt especially 
upon his ocean voyage and the details of the storm 
and shipwreck. 

“ His manner was courtly and winning, his con- 
versation brilliant and pleasing. It was a delight- 
ful break in the quiet life at the parsonage. Father 
Osmond, Margaret and Pearl never tired of hear- 
ing him talk of the world of which they knew so 
little, and in return they made his forced sojourn 
with them as pleasant as possible. He was soon 
able to walk out into the garden, and one beautiful 
Sabbath morning he went for the first time to the 
little stone church, and in the years that followed, 
how often he recalled the sweet experience and 
calm beauty of that morning. The sea, reflecting 
the soft azure of the sky, was placid as a lake, and 
a white skiff, floating upon its bosom, seemed a 
phantom sail appearing and disappearing in the 
silvery mist that hovered o’er the waters. The 


Margaret’s pearl 


71 


purple mountains seemed far away, so faintly 
were they outlined against the sky. Fleecy clouds 
floated below their summits, leaving the snowy 
peaks glowing pink above the clouds. The church 
bell’s soft ringing was in harmony with the still- 
ness and holy calm of the morning. Father Os- 
mond and Pearl walked together along the nar- 
row path that led to the church, followed by Mar- 
garet and the stranger. Margaret’s eyes were 
fixed upon the distant heights, but he saw nothing 
but the exquisite grace of the slender form before 
him. She was all in white, even to the dainty 
shoes, and beneath her broad hat with its wreath 
of marguerites, glittered a coil of golden hair, the 
little stray curls caressing her white neck. 

“ As they reached the door of the church she 
turned and gave them one smiling glance ; her 
cheeks were softly red and her violet eyes were 
like stars. 

‘‘To Rudolph Lome that morning service was 
like a strange but pleasant dream. How solemnly 
the music of the organ rolled out upon the still 
air. To him the white forms of Margaret and 
Pearl, standing before the chancel, were the figures 
of the Madonna and an angel, and the melody of 
their voices fell upon his ears like the music of the 
heavenly choirs. Vaguely he saw the noble form of 
Father Osmond in his priestly robes, and heard him 
speaking in eloquent, yet simple language, words 
of holy counsel to his people. A bright-winged 
oriole flitted past the open window again and again, 


72 


Miriam’s tower 


trilling his tender notes, and in solemn undertone 
surged the ceaseless music of the sea. 

“ The long summer days slipped away, and the 
stranger still lingered in the little village by the 
sea. And Margaret knew why he lingered, for his 
heart was in his eyes, and his eyes were ever follow- 
ing winsome Pearl. When he was near, her eyes 
were always veiled by their long lashes, that he 
might not read in their liquid depths, the sweet 
secret hidden in her heart ; but the tell-tale roses 
on her cheeks revealed the secret that her eyes so 
closely veiled. 

“ One perfect evening, when the garden was 
flooded with moonlight, Margaret sat alone by the 
open window, dreamily watching Rudolph and 
Pearl, walking to and fro along the flower-bordered 
path, disappearing for a moment in the shrubbery 
where the path curved, then reappearing in the 
moonlight. Margaret’s heart was full of the 
‘ Sweet long ago,’ she was living over again those 
brief years of happiness. It seemed such a little 
while since she and Lucean walked together in the 
moon-lit spaces of the garden along the same 
path that Rudolph and Pearl were now treading. 
Lucean was telling her the ^ sweet old story ’ that 
is ever new. 1 he present was forgotten, nothing 
was real but the past. Her cheeks were flushed, 
a tender smile played round her lips ; she heard 
Lucean’s loving voice once more, and felt his 
kisses on her cheek ; and again in her arms she 
held the warm, dimpled form of baby Lucille. As 


Margaret's pearl 


73 


she mused, Rudolph and Pearl had left the garden 
and entered the room, but she saw them not until 
they knelt before her and clasped her hands. 
Their faces were transfigured in the moonlight, 
and Rudolph said in a voice tremulous with emo- 
tion : 

“ ‘ We love each other and Pearl has promised to 
be my wife, give us your blessing, sweet Mar- 
garet.” 

“ Then Margaret laid her hands upon their bowed 
heads, and raising her eyes to Heaven, said sol- 
emnly : 

“ ‘ May God's richest blessings crown your lives, 
my dear ones ; may grief and separation be un- 
known to you.' Then addressing Rudolph, she 
said : 

“ ‘ As you deal with my precious child, Rudolph 
Lome, so may God deal with you.' 

“ And he answered fervently : ‘ I will be as true 
to her as the stars are to the firmanent ; yes — even 
as true to her as God is to His children."* 


74 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE LOST RUBY. 

** Rudolph was to leave the village in a few days 
and return in the spring to claim his bride. These 
last days were very precious to the lovers. Pearl 
wore upon her finger the beautiful ruby ring that 
had been in the Lome family for many generations. 
It was a jewel of great value and was said to bring 
happiness and prosperity to those who wore it. 

“ The lovers had spent their last evening together 
in the perfumed garden with only the stars and the 
flowers to witness their tender farewells, but in the 
morning, down on the beach they would meet to 
say good-by. 

“ As they were standing in the shadow of the old 
elms, loth to separate, Rudolph said, ‘ Before we 
part, my little Pearl, I will tell you a secret : I am 
the son of a king, the crown prince. Some day I 
shall be king of a great realm and you will be my 
queen.’ 

“ Then giving her the farewell kiss, he said good- 
night and was gone. 

Pearl stood motionless for awhile, trembling and 
bewildered, then she stole into the house by the 
side door and up to her chamber, avoiding Mar- 
garet. When she reached the room she locked 
the door and seated herself by the open window, 


THE LOST RUBY 


75 


her face, that a few moments before was flushed 
and joyous, looked wan in the moonlight. For 
hours she sat thinking of the secret that her lover 
had revealed to her at parting, and suddenly she 
threw up her arms and began moaning and talking 
to herself. 

‘ It cannot be, it cannot be,’ she cried, ‘ my 
beautiful dream is ended. It will break my heart 
but I must give him back the ring. No, it cannot 
be, it is not fitting that he, the son of a king, 
should marry a nameless waif, and place her upon 
his throne, I love him too well to let him make the 
sacrifice. He will soon forget little Pearl ; but oh, 
my heart ! my heart !’ 

“ The next morning when Margaret came, as was 
her wont, to give Pearl a good-morning kiss, she 
was shocked at the white, suffering face upon the 
pillow. 

“ ‘My poor little girl,’ said she , ‘are you griev- 
ing because Rudolph is going away ? Cheer up, 
sweetheart, it will only be for a little while.’ 

“ Then she threw her arms around Margaret’s 
neck and said : 

“ ‘ Mamma, I had rather not see Rudolph until 
we meet to say good-by down on the beach, will 
you tell him ?” 

“ ‘ Yes, little one, and I will bring you some coffee 
and a nice breakfast and I will help you dress and 
kiss the roses back into your cheeks, before you 
meet Rudolph to say good-by. Cheer up, my 


76 


Miriam’s tower 


dear, you will hardly miss him until he will be 
back again.’ 

Pearl was standing upon the beach, her face was 
as white as the dress she wore and when the prince 
joined her, he exclaimed : ‘ My little Pearl, why 
are you so pale this morning.’ 

“ And she answered, ‘ Last night my heart was 
troubled and perplexed because of the secret you 
told me, but this morning all is clear to me, there 
is but one way, and that is the right way.’ Then 
drawing the ring from her finger, she said : 

“ ‘ Rudolph, we must part. You will soon forget 
little Pearl. I would not have worn the ring had I 
known that you were the son of a king. It is not 
fitting that you, a noble prince, who will be a king 
of a great realm, should wed a nameless waif. 
Here I give you back your ring. Go and marry 
some noble princess, befitting your rank and forget 
little Pearl.’ 

He did not take the ring, but said excitedly, ‘ I 
care not who you are, I love you and I shall marry 
you. Put the ring back on your finger and we 
will talk of it no more.’ 

“ ‘ I cannot, Rudolph, it is better that we should 
part. I dare not marry you now that I know you 
are a prince. Here is your ring.’ He took it 
from her hand and tossed it upon the sands. His 
face was white with anger, and, pointing to the ring 
he said haughtily, ‘ Pick up the ring and put it 
back on your finger. How dare you remove the 
ring that I placed there with a vow ? I, the de- 


THE LOST RUBY 


77 


scendent of a hundred kings. It is a ring that 
queens have been proud to wear, but I have chosen 
to place is upon the finger of a nameless waif.’ 

‘‘ Pearl’s face was as white as his, and her eyes 
were blazing as she answered as haughtily as he 
had spoken. 

“ ‘ I did not throw the ring upon the beach and I 
will not pick it up, no, not if you were the de- 
scendant of a thousand kings. She had never been 
angry before and with this new sensation, there 
was revealed to her some hidden power of her be- 
ing. She felt that she was born to be a queen, 
that she was as proud and noble as he and she was 
not afraid of any throne. And thus they stood, 
looking not at each other, but at the ruby glowing 
in the sand. And the tide ebbed and flowed, com- 
ing a little nearer and a little nearer to the jewel 
but neither of them spoke or moved, each waiting 
proudly for the other to save the precious gem. 
But suddenly the prince raised his eyes and said : 

must leave you now, proud Pearl. Farewell 
my little queen. When you send me the ruby, I 
will return to you,’ then he walked rapidly away. 

“ Pearl’s anger vanished, as she heard the caress- 
ing tones of his voice. She tried to call him back, 
but her tongue refused its office and her feet 
seemed rooted to the sand, and as she stood there, 
unable to move, his beloved form disappeared from 
her sight. Then she remembered the ruby, and 
turning, saw the waters leaping upon it. She 
sprang to save the precious gem, but too late. 


78 


Miriam’s tower 


The unrelenting tide carried it out to sea. Gazing 
wildly at the receding waters, she cried : ^ My ring 
is gone, and Rupolph will never return.’ And 
faint with anguish she fell insensible upon the 
beach, and there, a little later, Margaret found her, 
white and cold. She gathered the little limp form 
in her arms, calling her by every endearing name 
to speak to poor Margaret. Finally, with a sigh, 
she opened her eyes and looked vaguely into Mar- 
garet’s face for a moment, and then said : 

“ ‘ Oh, mamma, my heart is broken !’ And, lean- 
ing her head upon that loving breast she began 
sobbing like a child that is hurt, and between her 
sobs she told the story of the parting and the lost 
ruby and Margaret could say nothing that would 
bring comfort to her heart. 

‘‘ And in the days that followed there was no music 
or laughter in the house by the church. The 
stricken one was ever sweet and affectionate, kind 
and thoughtful, neglecting none of the simple duties 
that were hers to perform. But the brightness had 
gone out of her face and the starry light was 
quenched in the violet eyes. She was always upon 
the beach when the tide ebbed and flowed, hoping 
and half believing that the tide would bring back 
the ring it had stolen from her. The weeks and 
months passed slowly away, until the anniversary 
of the day that the prince was found, nearly life- 
less, upon the beach. It was a sad day for poor 
Pearl, and as she walked upon the beach, watching 
the incoming tide, the wild melody of her song 


THE LOST RUBY 


79 


rang out across the waters, mournful and appeal- 
ing : 


“ ‘ Give back my gem, oh, sea ! 

Thou hast so many jewels for thine own, 

Thou wouldst not miss one little ruddy stone. 

Bring back my ring to me. 

“ Bring back my gem, bright wave. 

Thou knowest all the secrets of the sea. 

Oh ! search the ocean caves and bring to me 
My ruby from its grave. 

“ Oh, never-failing tide, 

Sweep low ! sweep low ! snatch from the deep 
My ruby ring and cast it at my feet. 

That I may be his bride. 

“ Bring back my gem, oh, storm ! 

When thou hast swept with care, the ocean’s floor, 
And tossed my rosy jewel to the shore. 

Then love, anew, is born.’ 

‘‘As she finished her song she sank wearily upon 
the sand, still watching the tide and lost in the 
memories of the past. The setting sun sank lower 
and lower until it dropped like a ball of fire into 
the sea. The twilight deepened into night. The 
stars came out, one by one, then the moon rose 
from behind the mountains, flooding the snow- 
capped peaks with a white splendor and shedding 
a silvery light upon the sea. 

“ Pearl had been watching a boat approaching the 
beach ; a tall man with a long white beard was 


80 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


plying the oars ; as he neared the shore, he beck- 
oned to Pearl and she arose and walked toward the 
boat, and the man said : 

“ ‘ I have heard your song, sweet pearl of the sea, 
and if you would regain the lost ruby, come with 
me.’ 

She gave him her hand and stepped into the 
boat and they drifted away toward the south, 
keeping near the shore. Neither of them spoke ; 
all was silent save the rhythmical dip of the oars 
and the swish of the waves against the boat. The 
sea was full of violet shadows beneath the white 
crested waves ; and once Pearl broke the silence 
by exclaiming, ‘ Oh, how beautiful !’ as her eyes 
rested upon a ship in full sail, standing white and 
motionless in the fan-shaped reflection of the moon. 
When the ship, becalmed, faded from her sight, 
she turned her eyes toward the shore and as they 
glided over the calm waters, she saw in the distance 
great cities, * thick with towers,’ and the music of 
the cathedral chimes was borne faintly to her ears 
upon the fragrant breezes — fragrant with the scent 
of the magnolia and orange blossoms. Upon 
rocky bluffs were stately castles, with their slender 
turrets glittering like silver in the moonlight, and 
groves of waving palms, delighted her unaccus- 
tomed eyes. When they had drifted for hours she 
saw that the shore was fading away and that the 
strange boatman was swiftly plying his oars, urging 
his boat out into mid-ocean. In another hour, the 


THE LOST RUBY 


81 


toat stopped suddenly, rocked gently upon the 
waves for a moment, then began sinking. 

“ Pearl, terror-stricken, grasped the arm of the 
boatman and cried, * The boat is sinking ! the boat 
is sinking!’ 

He answered soothingly, * Be not afraid, little 
Pearl, I am the king of the sea, the waters obey 
me, they shall not harm you.’ 

“ The boat sank slowly with a slight rocking 
motion, down, down through fathoms and fathoms 
of water. When a little below the surface it grew 
dark, but as they neared the bottom of the ocean 
the waters became luminous, they were surrounded 
by the weird creatures of the deep, their fins glow- 
ing with phosphorescent light. The boat soon 
touched the bottom and was fastened to a coral 
reef and Pearl stood upon the shelly ocean bed 
looking about her, speechless with wonder and 
delight. All was luminous with phosphorescent 
light from the coral bushes and from the strange 
creatures of the deep that carry their lights with 
them. These moving lights flashing in and out of 
the dark ocean caves, gave momentary glimpses of 
the fantastic interiors, some of alabaster, others of 
pink and red coral, mingled with crystalline forma- 
tions that sparkled like diamonds in the moving 
lights. There were fields of tall waving flowers, 
brilliant in coloring and groves of swaying trees 
with fern-like foliage and half hidden beneath their 
floating branches were shoals of little fishes with 
opalescent scales. 


82 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


‘‘ From the moss-covered rocks grew great orchid- 
shaped flowers of exquisite coloring. And from 
the huge yellow sponges trailed glossy vines, the 
long, floating tendrils starred with white blossoms. 
And near them were immense fan-shaped coral 
sprays, pink and white and as delicate as lace- 
work. Everywhere were wonderful shells — lodged 
in the sponges, resting upon the mossy rocks, 
lying upon the white sand with the gleaming star- 
fishes, and piled high against the coral cliffs. And 
the ground was literally strewn with these 
treasures of the deep. 

“A new surprise awaited Pearl, more wonderful 
than all the rest. The king gave a musical whistle 
and from the alabaster caves the mermaids came 
floating out. Their beautiful forms, nude to the 
waist, gleamed like ivory and the scales upon their 
fish-like extremities were iridescent, glittering 
like gems in the changing lights of the sea. Upon 
their swan-like necks, their long white arms, and 
slender fingers sparkled the rarest jewels that the 
mines of earth have ever yielded. These strange 
creatures clustered around one even more beauti- 
ful than the rest. 

“ ‘ It is Sylva, the queen of the mermaids,’ said 
the king, in answer to Pearl’s look of inquiry. 

“ They all fixed their eyes upon this earth-born 
maiden, large, soft, dark eyes, like those of a fawn, 
with no expression but that of innocent wonder- 
ment. At a signal from the king they began sing- 
ing, swaying their forms and waving their jeweled 


THE LOST RUBY 


83 


arms and no mortal ever before listened to such 
wild, beautiful melody as fell upon the ears of 
Pearl as she stood breathless and enchanted in the 
midst of this wondrous scene. All the hideous 
creatures of the deep lay motionless upon the 
waves, charmed by the melody. When the mer- 
maids had finished their song, Sylva, the queen, 
began combing her long, golden tresses and as she 
drew the tortoise-shell comb through her hair. 
Pearl caught the flash of a ruby among the jewels 
upon her hand and breaking away from the king 
and rushing toward the group of frightened mer- 
maids, who gave way as she came, she stood 
before the queen, reached out her hands and said 
beseechingly : 

** ‘ Oh, Sylva ! beautiful Sylva, give me the ruby 
on your finger. It is mine, Sylva. The tide 
carried it away ; oh, give it to me, sweet Sylva ! 
for my lover will never come back until I send him 
the ring.’ Sylva slowly removed the ring from 
her finger and without a word or a smile, but with 
just that look of wonderment in her soft dark 
eyes, she gave the ring to Pearl, and she, clasping 
the cold, white hand in hers, covered it with kisses, 
then, followed by the wondering eyes of the mer- 
maids, she returned to the king, flashed the jewel 
before his eyes and said : 

“ ‘ I have found my lost ruby and now I am 
ready to return.’ 

“ Then they entered the boat and slowly it rose, 
without resistance from the waters, to the surface 


84 


Miriam’s tower 


of the sea, followed by the mermaids singing, as 
they floated hour after hour upon the moonlit 
waves. And, as they approached the little fishing 
village, and Pearl had again and again thanked the 
king of the sea for his great kindness to her, Sylva, 
the queen, clasped the unresisting form of Pearl 
in her arms and carried her to the beach. Then 
they floated away, the boat, the strange boatman 
and the mermaids, singing as they went, and Pearl 
stood watching them as they floated away into the 
darkness and the music was lost in the moaning of 
the sea. Then she heard Margaret calling her. 

‘ Pearl, Pearl, my darling, where are you ?’ 

“ She started up and looked about her, dazed and 
bewildered and said sorrowfully, ‘ It was only a 
dream, I have been sleeping in the sand.’ 

But as she spoke she saw in the wet sand at her 
feet a sparkle of red, it was the lost ruby. She 
snatched it from the sand and ran to meet Mar- 
garet, exclaiming : 

‘‘ ‘ Mamma, I have found my lost ruby,’ and she 
held it up to the astonished gaze of Margaret, who 
asked : 

‘‘ ‘ Where did you find it, my child ?’ 

* In the bottom of the sea, on the finger of Sylva, 
the queen of the mermaids,’ she answered, with a 
merry laugh, whose music, hushed so long, sounded 
very sweet in Margaret’s ears. 

“When they reached the house, they hurried up 
the broad stairway to the library, where Father 
Osmond was sitting surrounded by his books. 


THE LOST RUBY 


85 


And Pearl waved her hand before his eyes, exclaim- 
ing : 

** ‘ Oh, uncle, I have found my lost ruby ! I have 
found my lost ruby ! and now I will tell you and 
mamma a strange story.’ 

“ As she seated herself in a large chair leaning her 
fair head against the crimson cushions, they noticed, 
with sadness, how slight and frail she had grown in 
a few short months. She was silent for a moment, 
as holding up her little white hand, she gazed with 
shining eyes upon the ruby. Then she told them 
her beautiful dream and when she had finished, 
Margaret said solemnly : 

‘ Our prayers were not in vain, my sweet child, 
God loves his children ; all things are possible with 
him ; he speaks to the winds and the waves and 
they obey him ; he spoke to the tide and it brought 
back your ring.’ 

“ ‘Yes, God is good,’ said the priest, ‘ he hears 
our prayers and answers them in his own good 
time and in his own good way. I think I can ex- 
plain the mystery of the sudden appearance of the 
lost ruby. The incoming tide did not carry the 
ring away but pushed it deep into the sand and 
there it has lain, buried until to-day, when the tide, 
repentant of the mischief it had caused, washed the 
sand away and left the ring uncovered.’ 

“ Then, said Pearl, I know not which of you is 
right, but this I do know, that the Good Father 
heard my cry, for here upon my finger is the pre- 
cious ring.’ 


86 


Miriam’s tower 


“ There was great rejoicing in the village when it 
was known that Margaret’s Pearl had found her lost 
ruby and mysterious tales were told of some strange 
creature of the deep, bringing back the ring one 
moonlight night, when Margaret’s Pearl was sing- 
ing on the beach. And the children listened wide- 
eyed and were continually wishing that they had 
been out on the beach that night, hidden behind the 
fishing boats. They talked of nothing else for days 
and days and wondered what this strange creature 
was like, and wondered if Margaret’s Pearl was not 
afraid when it came up out of the sea to give her 
the ring. And the fishermen’s wives said that 
Margaret’s Pearl had sent the ring to the prince 
and that some day he would come in a wonderful 
painted boat, with bands playing and silken banners 
waving in the breeze. Then they would have 
another wedding in the little church, even more 
beautiful than Margaret’s. 

‘ Time flies like the wind,’ said a white-haired 
woman, “it is twenty-two years this month since 
Margaret was married. Poor Margaret ! in a little 
while she was widowed and childless. May the 
prince live until his hair is as white as mine.’ 

“ As the weeks slipped away, the villagers watched 
Pearl every day, as she walked upon the beach, not 
a listless form with a pale sad face, and mournful 
voice, singing to the sea ; but every motion of the 
graceful form alert and eager, cheeks like the pink 
sea shells and shining eyes ever looking, expect- 
antly, toward the south. Margaret and her brother 


THE LOST RUBY 


87 


watched her anxiously, their loving hearts filled 
with conflicting emotions of hope, doubt and fear, 
but among the villagers there was not one doubt- 
ing heart. Each morning they scanned the south- 
ern horizon and said, ‘ The prince may come to-day,’ 
and at night they said, ‘he will surely come to- 
morrow.’ And in Pearl’s heart a little bird was 
ever singing the same song o’er and o’er : 

“ ‘ My love is coming back to me, 

Back to me, 

His ship’s afloat upon the sea, 

Upon the sea, 

He loves but me, he loves but me.’ 

“And they were not false notes that the little bird 
sang within her heart, for one day when the sky was 
bluer than ever before ; and the sea was calm, save 
the little ripples that danced and laughed upon its 
bosom, far in the south there appeared a white sail, 
and as it drew nearer and nearer, proudly riding 
upon the waves. Pearl saw a beautiful yacht, all 
white and shining in the sunlight and upon the 
deck, stood the prince and she caught the sparkle 
of the ruby as he waved his hand to her and when 
he leaped upon the beach and clasped her in his 
arms, the women and children standing a little way 
off, laughed and cried for joy ; and there was joy in 
the old house beneath the elms. And in the little 
church all draped with vines and wreathed with 
flowers, the prince and Pearl, standing before the 
altar with enraptured faces, plighted their sacred 


88 


Miriam’s tower 


vows, and when all was over — the beautiful cere- 
mony and the lingering farewells — the prince and 
princess sailed away, in the white yacht toward the 
land of palms. And when the forms upon the deck 
could be seen no more the wavings ceased, and the 
group upon the beach stood, silent and tearful, 
watching the white yacht until it was no larger than 
a bird and slowly faded away into the shimmering 
mists that hung low upon the sea.” 


A WHITE CHRISTMAS 


89 


CHAPTER X. 

A WHITE CHRISTMAS. 

It was the day before Christmas ; a fire was burn- 
ing in the grate but the windows were open and the 
upper room of the tower was flooded with sunshine, 
Miriam coming in from the balcony said to Hope, 
“ To-morrow is Christmas, I am afraid it will not be 
a white Christmas. We have had but one fall of 
snow as you remember, it came one day and was 
gone the next. And what a beautiful dreamy In- 
dian summer we have had since then. But I wish 
it would snow to-morrow for I love a white Christ- 
mas. Get your hat, Hope, and let us go and gather 
some holly and creeping pines and we will search 
the woods for mistletoe, and to-night we will dec- 
orate my little tower for Christmas.” When they 
reached the woods it was so pleasant there that 
they wandered through the winding paths for an 
hour and then began to gather the holly and creep- 
ing pines. 

The woods are always grand and beautiful,” 
said Miriam, “ even in winter. Look up, Hope, 
and see the wonderful network of bare branches 
with their millions of little twigs outlined against 
the blue, and how pleasing to the eye is the contrast 
between the russet and the rich green of the pines 
and hemlocks.” 


90 


Miriam’s tower 


The sun shining through the bare trees cast fan- 
tastic shadows along the path that the girls had 
taken. The rustling of the crisp leaves beneath 
their feet startled the little creatures of the forest. 
The squirrels would dart across their path, then 
stop to sit up and watch them with their bright 
inquisitive eyes, but disappearing like a flash as 
they drew near. And the curiosity of the rabbits, 
bounding along the path before them, would over- 
come their timidity and they too, would stop, sit- 
ting up with ears erect and quivering nostrils, to 
watch the fair intruders. The woods were alive 
with little brown snow birds and the red birds were 
whistling merrily in the tree tops, their bright 
breasts as they flew from tree to tree, giving a 
touch of color to the sombre browns and grays. 

“ The red bird is my favorite of all the birds,” 
said Hope, “ he never forsakes us; but in summer 
and winter, in sunshine and storm, he sings the 
same glad song o’er and o’er, ‘What cheer! what 
cheer !’ ” 

“ Oh, the darlings,” interrupted Miriam, “ how 
plain they say, ‘ What cheer ! what cheer !’ The 
orioles have a rival in my heart. They went with 
the summer, leaving us nothing but their hanging 
nests, while the red bird stays to cheer the winter 
solitude.” 

“ We have our baskets nearly full of holly and 
creeping pines,” said Hope, “ but where is the 
mistletoe bough ?” 

“ Let us search the oak trees for the mistletoe,” 


A WHITE CHRISTMAS 


91 


said Miriam. “ You know that it was only the 
mistletoe that grew on the oak trees that was 
held sacred by the Druids. Two Druids, all 
in white, would go hunting the mistletoe. (We 
should have been dressed in white to-day.) One 
would mount the tree, cutting the mistletoe with a 
golden sickle, while the other, standing on the 
ground, would receive it in his outspread robes.’’ 

The girls had spent the afternoon in the woods, 
but had searched in vain for a mistletoe bough ; 
but as they were returning by another path, sud- 
denly Miriam stopped and exclaimed : 

“ There it is, Hope, the mistletoe ! the mistletoe ! 
Right ahead of us on that old oak tree 1” 

They hastened forward and stopped beneath the 
oak and looking up at the coveted mistletoe, white 
with berries. 

But now that we have found it, how shall we 
get it ?” asked Miriam. 

Nothing easier,” said Hope. “ The limbs are 
low, you shall mount my shoulders, you little 
Druid, and pull yourself up by a limb and cut the 
mistletoe, while I, the tall Druid, will stand on the 
ground and catch the sacred bough in my out- 
spread robes, and after that the little Druid will 
jump, and the tall Druid will catch her.” 

Hope’s plan for securing the mistletoe was suc- 
cessful. They reached the tower just as the sun 
was setting, triumphantly carrying the mistletoe 
bough. And that evening, when the lamps were 
lighted, they festooned the upper room of the 


92 


Miriam’s tower 


tower with the creeping pines, and they made 
wreaths of holly and hung them reverently around 
the pictures of the Christ and the Madonna, and 
fastened the mistletoe bough to the hanging lamp 
in the centre of the room, and Miriam, standing 
beneath it, her sweet face dimpling with laughter, 
said : 

** Now come and kiss me, Hope. You can play 
that you are my lover.” 

And as Hope put her arms around the sweet 
form, kissing her on each soft cheek, she leaned her 
head upon Hope’s breast and said with a sob : 

“ I once had a lover, Hope. He was false 
to me, but I cannot forget him. I cannot forget 
him ! I will try to be happy to-morrow, Hope, be- 
cause you are with me, but the little lute within 
my heart will only play in the minor key.” 

Merry Christmas ! Merry Christmas !” echoed 
through the halls of the tower as Miriam and Hope 
met the next morning. 

‘‘You have your white Christmas, Miriam,” said 
Hope, “ and it is still snowing. Yesterday was 
summer, to-day it is winter ; this climate is like 
some human beings — beautiful, but fickle.” 

“ Come, Hope, and look at the old chateau,” 
said Miriam. “ Last night, while we were sleeping, 
the Snow Queen came and draped it with white 
garlands for Christmas. And look at the forest 
trees, yesterday they were bare and brown, this 
morning every branch and twig has a tracery of 
white; and what could be more beautiful than the 


A WHITE CHRISTMAS 


93 


pines and hemlocks laden with the white snow- 
blossoms? And the Snow Queen has spread her 
carpet of moss, deep and white, over the brown 
old earth. Yes, I have my white Christmas.” 

“ Come,” said Hope, picking up her guitar, let 
us sing a Christmas anthem before we breakfast.” 

So, standing before the picture of the Madonna 
and Child that rested upon an easel festooned 
with holly and creeping vines, the girls sang in 
joyful but reverent tones, the anthem they loved 
best : “ Peace on earth, good will to men.” And 
while the last notes still echoed through the tower, 
the strange bird that had been circling around the 
room while they were singing, settled upon his 
favorite perch above the picture of the Madonna 
on the wall, and burst into joyous song. 

He is singing a Christmas carol,” said Miriam. 

And the song was so entrancing that the girls 
listened breathlessly, fearing to lose one note, and 
when the song was finished, Hope held up her 
hand, and said : 

“ Come to me, my bonny bird,” and as he 
perched himself upon her finger, she looked into 
his brilliant eyes and said: “You are favored 
above mortals, my sweet bird. Miriam and I were 
taught by masters of music, but they were only 
mortal like ourselves. But you were taught by the 
Great Master, He who taught the morning stars 
to sing together without one discordant note, and 
taught the heavenly choirs their anthem of praise ; 
and to ‘ those who washed their robes and made 


94 


Miriam’s tower 


them white in the Blood of the Lamb ’ your Mas- 
ter gave the glorious song of the Redeemed.” 

An hour later it had stopped snowing and the 
clouds were breaking away, and before noon the 
sky was blue and cloudless, and the white earth 
flooded with sunshine. The weather had grown 
colder and the air was full of little particles of 
frost that glittered like diamonds in the sunlight. 

After the clouds cleared away, the girls went 
out for a walk, but the sharp, frosty air soon drove 
them back to their cosy sitting-room with its fire 
of blazing logs, and they spent the day singing 
Christmas anthems and reading Christmas legends 
and stories, beginning with the story of the Christ 
Child in the Book of books, the old, old story that 
is ever new. 

When evening came, Miriam said: “Hope, I 
have a surprise for you. I am going to tell you 
a story to-night. Perhaps you will object to my 
trespassing on your domain.” 

“No, no,” said Hope, “I have always known 
that you could tell charming stories if you would. 
Will it be a Christmas story?” 

“ Yes, a Christmas story, and I shall call it Wini- 
fred’s Star.” 




WINIFRED 


WINIFRED'S STAR 


95 


CHAPTER XL 

WINIFRED’S STAR. 

‘‘Robbie, can’t you keep awake a little while? 
Sister has something to tell you.” 

“Yes, I tan teep awake, I’se not very teepy.” 

“ You know, Robbie, that I was eight years old 
last week, and you will be four on Christmas day.” 

“ Yes, I knows it.” 

“ And Christmas day is day after to-morrow ?” 

“ Yes, I knows dat too.” 

“ Last Christmas mamma was here. Do you re- 
member how she always called you her little Christ- 
mas present ?” 

“Yes, I remembers.” 

“ And do you remember how we hung our stock- 
ings up last Christmas Eve, and how mamma came 
in the morning and kissed us, but we wished her 
Merry Christmas first ? Then she said, ‘ You had 
better get up, my darlings, and look in your stock- 
ings, for Santa Claus was here last night.’ And 
don’t you remember, Robbie, how warm and pretty 
the sitting-room was with the fire burning in the 
grate, and the flowers in the windows, and how the 
stockings looked all bulged out with the nice things 
that Santa Claus had brought us ; and when we 
had emptied the stockings on the rug in front of 


96 


Miriam’s tower 


the grate, mamma came and knelt down by us and 
hugged us and called us her own sweet babies. 
Do you remember it, Robbie ?” 

Yes, I remembers,” with a sob. 

Now, don’t cry, Robbie dear,” choking back 
her own sobs. Mamma is up in heaven, but she 
can look down and see us to-night.” 

“ Does she know how told we are ?” 

Are you so very cold, Robbie, dear ? Snuggle 
up to sister and she’ll put her arms around you. 
Now, aint you a little warmer?” 

“ Yes ; I dess I is.” 

“ Robbie, you must say ‘ I am,’ not * I is. ’ ” 
Sister, does mamma know dat we are hungry ?” 

‘‘Are you very hungry, Robbie? You are not 
going to be hungry any more after Christmas, or 
cold either. We are going away from here to- 
morrow morning ; that is what I wanted to tell 
you.” 

“ I is so glad ” 

“ I am,” interrupted Winifred. 

“I am so glad,” corrected Robbie. Where are 
we doing, sister?” 

“ We are going toward the little star in the east, 
and it will tell us when to stop.” 

“ What ittle tar ? I didn’t know ittle tars 
could talk.” 

“ Well, they really can’t talk ; but don’t you re- 
member, Robbie, how mamma used to tell us 
about the Star in the East that led the wise men 
to the manger where the child Jesus lay?** 


Winifred’s star 


97 


** Yes, I remembers.” 

“ Well, I am sure if the little star would lead the 
wise men to the manger where Jesus lay, it will 
lead two little orphans who love Jesus to a home 
where somebody will love them.” 

“ But where is the ittle tar ?” 

‘‘ That’s just what I was going to tell you. You 
know how cold this old garret is toward morning, 
Robbie.” 

“Yes, I knows.” 

“ I wake up every morning before daylight and 
am so cold I can’t sleep any more, so I lay here 
and look out of that little window up there, and I 
always see the star shining in the east. You know 
that way is east, Robbie, because the sun rises 
over there.” 

“ Yes,” rather doubtfully. 

“ Every morning the little star seems to beckon 
me to come and last night I dreamed that mamma 
came to me and said, ‘ Take Robbie, darling, and 
go toward the little star in the east and it will tell 
you where to stop.’ We can’t stay here any 
longer, Robbie, begging in the streets. Bridget 
shall never beat you again, I am afraid that I hate 
her, she is so cruel to us, but I am trying not to, 
for it is very wicked to hate people. Now, Robbie, 
we will say our prayers and go to sleep, for we 
must get up very early in the morning, as soon as 
the little star is up.” 

“ Aint you faid, sister, to do out so early in the 
dark?” 


98 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


“ Oh, no, Jesus loves little children and He will 
take care of us. Don’t you know, Robbie, what 
He said about little children when He was here on 
earth ? Mamma taught me the verse, ‘ Suffer little 
children to come unto Me and forbid them not, for 
of such is the kingdom of heaven.’ Now you say 
it after me, Robbie, and that will be our prayer, 
then we will go to sleep. Suffer little children — 

“ Suffer ittle tildren ” 

‘Ho come unto Me ” 

“ to tome unto Me,” 

“ and forbid them not ” 

“ and forbid dem not,” 

“ for of such is the kingdom of heaven.’' 

“ for of tuch is the timdom of heaven.” 

“ Robbie, I wonder if you are ever going to talk 
plain, no wonder mamma called you her little ‘ T ’ 
boy. You begin nearly every word with a ‘T.’ 
Lots of boys at your age talk perfectly plain.” 

“I tan’t help it,” said Robbie, with a little quiver 
in his voice. 

“Of course you can’t, you precious boy, sister 
wasn’t scolding you, you are lots smarter than half 
of the boys that talk plain and just as sweet as you 
can be. I am glad you are my little ‘T’ brother.” 

“ I guess we had better say, ‘ Now I lay me.’ after 
all, for perhaps that little verse wasn’t a prayer.” 

Winifred was awake the next morning, long 
before the little star appeared in the east ; as soon 
as she saw the star she arose from the hard pallet on 
the floor and dressed herself as quickly as she 


Winifred’s star 


99 


could in the dark and with her little fingers numb 
with cold. As soon as she was dressed she awoke 
her brother and dressed him. When he cried with 
the cold, she said : 

Don’t cry, Robbie dear, to-morrow is Christ- 
mas, then you won’t be cold any more. The little 
star is going to lead us to a nice warm home. 
Aint you hungry, Robbie 

“Yes, I is.” 

“ Now, Robbie.” 

“ Yes, I am.” 

“Sister has some cakes in her little bag. 

“Where did you det em ?" 

“ I saved a penny now and then from the money 
I got begging in the streets. Bridget can’t make 
us beg any more, Robbie. Last night, with the 
pennies, I bought some crackers and cakes. I’ve 
only two cakes, they cost more than crackers ; but 
you love cakes, don’t you, Robbie ?” 

“Yes, I does.” 

“ Robbie, you must say, I do, and not I does.” 

“ All wight, sister. Can I have a take now?” 

“ Yes, Robbie, you can have three crackers and 
a cake. Then you can have the other cake for 
your dinner with three more crackers.” 

“ No, no, sister, you eat one of the takes.” 

“ No ; sister is going to eat crackers, she don’t 
care much about cakes, anyway ; she bought them 
for Robbie.” 

When they had finished their rations of crackers 
and cake, Winifred said : 


100 


MIRIAM’S TOWER 


“ Now, Robbie, we must say our prayers, then 
we will go. I know, Robbie, just what I want to 
ask Jesus to do for us. So I will pray out loud 
and you can listen, and when I am through, you 
must say. Amen, and that will mean that you and I 
are asking Jesus for the same thing.” 

Then upon the bare floor in the cold and the 
darkness, the little orphans knelt side by side — not 
alone, for the angels were there — and Winifred, 
with childish faith, offered her petition : 

“ Oh, Jesus, take care of Robbie and me, and let 
the little star lead us to a nice warm home where 
somebody will love us. Amen !” 

“ Amen !” echoed Robbie’s lisping voice. 

When the children arose from their knees, Win- 
ifred took Robbie’s hand, and they left the garret 
and picked their way carefully in the darkness down 
the four flights of rickety stairs, and gained the 
street without being discovered. The streets were 
still quite dark, and Robbie said : 

Aint you faid, sister ?” 

“ No, Robbie, Jesus will take care of us. Now 
we will go straight east.” 

But where is the ittle tar?” 

“ It is just over there behind those tall buildings, 
we will see it when we get out a little farther.” 

The children walked rapidly, and when daylight 
appeared, they were far out in the suburbs of the 
city. When the sun rose it was quite warm, and 
there was but little snow on the ground. By eight 


Winifred’s star 


101 


o’clock, Robbie’s little legs had grown very tired, 
and he began to cry with fatigue and hunger. 

** Now, don’t cry, Robbie,” said Winifred, ** we 
will stop at the very next house we come to and 
take a good rest, and perhaps they will give us 
some breakfast.” 

The next house was an old-fashioned, wood-col- 
ored house, standing back from the road in a grove 
of maples. An elderly man was standing by the 
gate. Winifred stopped and said : 

“ Good-morning, sir.” 

** Good-morning,” said a pleasant voice, “where 
did you little folks come from, so early in the 
morning ?” 

“ We have walked a long ways,” answered Win- 
ifred, “ and my little brother is very tired, can’t 
we come in and rest a while and get warm ?” 

“ Of course you can, come right in, come right 
in. Have you had any breakfast ?” 

“ Well, no, we didn’t stop for breakfast, because 
we were in a hurry to start, we wanted to get home 
to-night. But we ate some crackers and cake.” 

They had followed the man to the house, and he 
led them into a large kitchen. It was very bright 
and clean, and seemed delightfully warm to the 
shivering children. The table was spread, and a 
kind-faced woman was preparing the meal. 

“ Put on a couple of extra plates, wife,” said the 
man, “we have company for breakfast.” 

She came forward and drew the children to the 
fire and kissed them. 


102 


Miriam’s tower 


“ What sweet darlings you are,” said she, ‘‘and 
where did you come from ?” 

“We came from the city, we started long before 
daylight.” 

“ And where are you going, my dears?” 

“ We are going home,” answered Winifred. 

How delicious the coffee smelled, and to the 
hungry children nothing ever looked so inviting as 
that platter of ham and eggs. 

Before they went to the table, Winifred whis 
pered to Robbie : 

“Now don’t eat as though you had never had 
anything before.” 

“ All wight, sister.” 

But when Robbie was seated at the table, and 
the ham and eggs and a plate of smoking-hot buck- 
wheat cakes were set before him, all swimming in 
maple syrup, he forgot his sister’s caution and 
ate like a hungry little bear. But not so with Win- 
ifred. She maintained the dignity of the family 
by leisurely sipping her coffee, and eating her 
breakfast with the same leisurely propriety. When 
they were through eating, Robbie said : 

“ That is the best beakfus I ever eated, and I do 
love toffee wid tream in it.” 

“ Yes, it was a nice breakfast, Robbie. And oh, 
how good you are to Robbie and me,” said Wini- 
fred, with tears in her eyes. When a little later 
Winifred said to Robbie : “ Now we must be 

going,” the man of the house asked : 


Winifred’s star 


103 


‘ Which way are you going 

‘‘ Straight east,” answered Winifred. 

Then I can give you a ride,” said he, I am 
going to drive ten miles east this morning and it is 
time that I was hitching up.” 

Then the good wdfe put up a lunch for Robbie 
and Winifred and wrapped them in warm shawls 
and kissed them good-by. The good man helped 
them into the wagon and they were off, and such 
a lovely ride as they had, all wrapped up in their 
warm shawls. The sun was shining brightly and 
the little snow-birds were twittering merrily in the 
hedge-rows. Robbie had a nice sleep with his head 
in his sister’s lap and Winifred’s little heart was 
continually overflowing with thankfulness. 

It was past noon when their kind friend reached 
the end of. his journey and helped the children 
from the wagon. 

“ I hate to leave you little folks here,” said he. 
“Are you sure that you can find your way home ?” 

“Oh, yes, we can’t help it if we go straight 
ahead,” said Winifred. 

“Well, good-by, and may the kind Father take 
care of you.” 

Then he whipped up his horses, turned the cor- 
ner and was soon out of sight. 

“ Sister, where are we doing now ?” asked Rob- 
bie. 

“Straight ahead,” answered Winifred, taking 
Robbie by the hand and walking briskly toward 
the east. “ Aren’t we having a nice time, Robbie ? 


104 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


You see Jesus heard our prayers and is taking care 
of us all the time.'' 

How far are we doing ?” asked Robbie. 

‘‘We are going until the little star tells us to 
stop.” 

“ But where is the ittle tar ?” looking up at the 
sky. 

“ It is right above us, only we can’t see it, be- 
cause the sun is shining.” 

“ I am hungry,” announced Robbie. 

“ What, after that big breakfast ?” 

“ Yes, I is hungry,” 

“ Robbie, I am going to punish you for saying 
I is, instead of I am. You have to walk to that 
pine tree on top of the hill before you can have 
anything to eat.” 

“ Dat aint very far,” said Robbie cheerfully. 

When they reached the top of the hill they sat 
down under the pine tree and opened the basket 
that contained their lunch and there they found 
ham sandwiches, cake, pickled peaches and a bottle 
of milk. 

“We must only eat half of the lunch,” said 
Winifred, “ and drink half of the milk, because 
we will need supper by and by. There is plenty 
enough for two meals. Weren’t they good to us, 
Robbie ?” 

When they had finished their lunch they trudged 
along over the hill and down into the valley. By 
four o’clock the children were very tired and Rob- 
said between his sobs : 


Winifred's star 


105 


“ Sister, I tant do any farder. I is so tired.” 

“ Poor Robbie, sister knows he is tired,” wiping 
his eyes and kissing him. “ There is a wagon com- 
ing behind us, Robbie, and I am going to ask the 
man to give us a ride, and I know he will, because 
everybody is so good to us to-day.” 

They stopped and watched the wagon coming 
toward them and as it drew near, Winifred raised 
her hand and the man stopped his horses and said 
with a good-natured drawl, “Well, what do you 
little tramps want ?” 

“We are not tramps,” said Winifred, with great 
dignity. “ We have been walking a long distance 
and my little brother is tired out. Won’t you let 
us ride until we get rested ?” 

“Well, I should say I would. Climb in, give me 
your hand bub, here you are. Now, sis. I’ll give 
you a lift. You can have that back seat all to 
yourselves.” 

When they were seated, he said, “ Where did 
you kids come from and where are you going 
to ?” 

“ We are not kids,” answered Winifred, “ a kid 
is a young goat.” 

“ Well, you are a brick, anyway.” 

“ I think you are the funniest man I ever saw,” 
said Winifred, “ You know very well that I am 
not a brick, they use bricks for building chimneys. 
I am a little girl and my name is Winifred and 
my brother’s name is Robert. We came from the 
city and are going home. 


106 


Miriam’s tower 


“ Where is your home, little miss ?” 

“ East of here,” she replied, “ Are you going to 
drive very far east ?” 

“ Five miles as straight east as the road will 
carry me.” 

“And can we ride five miles with you ?” 

“ I should say you could, I like to be in good 
company. You are the smartest kid I ever saw, 
Excuse me, I didn’t mean to say kid. 

Winifred laughed and said, “ oh, you are so 
funny !” 

It was growing quite dusk when the children 
were again left standing alone in the roadway. 

“ I am hungry,” said Robbie triumphantly. 

“ Bless his little heart, if he didn’t say ‘am hun- 
gry ’ instead of ‘ is.* You shall have your supper, 
Robbie, as soon as we find a nice place to sit 
down.” 

When they had finished their lunch and walked 
a mile it was growing quite dark. And Robbie 
said, “ How much farder must we go, sister ?” 

And she answered, “ we must keep going until 
the little star comes out so it can tell us when we 
have got home.” A half an hour later she said, 
“ Robbie, there is my star.” 

“ How can you tell sister, the little tars are all 
alike.” 

“ I know my own little star, Robbie.” 

When they had walked another mile, suddenly 
Robbie stopped, burst into tears and said, “ I tant 
do any farder. I is so tired.” 


Winifred’s star 


107 


** I know you are tired, poor little brother, but 
look, right ahead of us is a village. Don’t you 
see the church steeples shining in the moonlight 
and the white cottages and the rows of trees all 
along the streets ? It looks like Bethlehem of 
Judea with the hills all around it.” 

“May be ’tis Bethelhem of Juda.” 

“ Oh, no, Robbie, Bethlehem of Judea is very far 
away. Now, Robbie, we must hurry along, for I 
believe the little star will tell us to stop there.” 

As they entered the village, Robbie stopped and 
began to cry again, and said, “ I tant do any farder, 
sister ; I is so tired and seepy.” 

Winifred stopped and looked up at the sky and 
said joyfully, “ Look up, Robbie, the little star is 
standing still right over that stable. Come, there is 
where we must stop.” 

She opened the gate and led Robbie across the 
yard to the stable, opened the door and they went 
in and she closed the door behind them. 

The moon was shining through a small window, 
making the barn quite light ; there were two stalls, 
in one was a span of horses, in the other, a cow. 

“ We will go in here where the cow is,” said 
Winifred. 

“ Ise faid of the tow,” said Robbie, holding 
back. 

“ Afraid of the cow, Robbie ? The cows did not 
hurt the child Jesus, when he lay in the manger, 
and this cow will not hurt us. See, she is lying 
down, chewing her cud as gentle as a lamb.” 


108 


Miriam’s tower 


“ She aint a hook tow,” said Robbie, viewing her 
critically, “ cause she aint got any horns, so she tould 
not hurt us if she wanted to,” 

Then Winifred, inspecting the manger, said : 

“ It is half full of fine hay. How sweet it smells. 
This will be our bed. I will help you in, Robbie, 
then I will get in and cover us both with hay. 
Now, isn’t this a nice bed, Robbie ? and so warm 
and cozy. Aint you glad you are not in the hard 
bed in the old, cold garret ?” 

“Yes, I is.” 

“There you are again, Robbie; if you keep say- 
ing I is, instead of I am, what will the people think 
of you in our new home ?” 

“ I thought we was doing to live with the tow.” 

“ Oh, Robbie, you are so cute. Now, we must 
say our prayers and go to sleep.” 

Robbie commenced : 

“Now I lay me down to seep, I pray de Lord 
my tole — to — teep ” 

“ Poor, tired little Robbie. He is fast asleep,” 
said Winifred, kissing his lips, then she finished 
the prayer, “ If I should die before I wake, I pray 
the Lord my soul to take.” 

Poor, tired little Winifred, she, too, was fast 
asleep. 

It was Christmas morning. A man and woman 
were standing before the grate fire in a pleasant 
sitting-room. Their faces were very sad. The 
woman laid her head upon her husband’s shoulder 
and began sobbing. 


Winifred’s star 


109 


There, there, Mary, don’t cry,” said the man 
soothingly. “ Tears will not bring them back. I 
knew that Christmas would be a hard day for us.” 

Oh, Walter, we were so happy last Christmas,’* 
said Mary, still sobbing ; ^‘our darlings were with us 
then, but to-day they are sleeping under the snow.” 

At that moment, in the door that opened from 
the dining-room, a servant appeared, and the mas- 
ter said : 

“ What is it, Hiram ?” 

And he answered with a very mysterious air : 

‘‘ If you and the mistress would see a purty sight, 
come out to the stable.” 

Come, Mary, and let us see what Hiram has to 
show us.” 

So Mary threw a shawl over her head, and they 
followed Hiram to the stable, and he led them to 
the cow’s manger and said : 

** Isn’t that a purty sight ?” 

There in the manger, lying side by side, were 
two little children, their heads, brown and golden, 
lay close together on the pillow of hay. Their 
faces were as beautiful as Raphael’s cherubs. As 
Walter and Mary stood looking at them, the girl 
opened her eyes, large, violet eyes, full of wonder. 
She looked at them a moment and then at the 
cow eating hay from the manger, and as she looked 
at the sleeping boy, she kissed him, then sitting up, 
she said : 

** Good-morning ! and merry Christmas ! Oh, it 
is so beautiful. I was just dreaming of the child 


no 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


Jesus in the manger, and when I opened my eyes, 
there stood Mary and Joseph and one of the shep- 
herds, and the cow eating hay, and Robbie lying 
here asleep in the manger, just like the child Jesus." 

Did you sleep here all night, my dear ?’’ asked 
Mary. 

“ Yes, and it was a nice bed. I like the smell of 
hay." 

“ But why didn’t you come to the house instead 
of the barn ?" 

Because my little star stood still right over the 
stable." 

“ But how did you get into the barn ?" asked 
Walter. 

“ Why, we just walked in through the door," an- 
swered Winifred. 

I forgot to lock the door last night," said Hiram. 
“ I never forgot it before." 

“ It was my little star that made you forget it," 
said Winifred. 

Wake the boy," said Walter, “ and we will go 
to the house and have some breakfast, and after 
breakfast you can tell us all about yourself and lit- 
tle brother." 

Wake up, Robbie ! Wake up! It is Christ- 
mas morning. Wake up, you sweet boy !" 

As soon as Robbie opened his sleepy eyes, he 
said : 

“ Why, sister, there’s a tow." Then Walter 
lifted Robbie from the manger, and as he carried 
him to the house, he said ; 


Winifred’s star 


111 


“ Don’t you want some breakfast, Robbie ?” 

‘‘Yes, I does. I likes buckwheat takes with tir- 
rup, and toffee wid tream in it.” 

And Winifred said to Mary, “ Robbie uses an 
awful lot of t’s when he talks, but he is just as 
smart as boys that talk plain, and you have no idea 
how sweet he is.” 

When breakfast was over they gathered around 
the grate in the pleasant room, and listened to 
Winifred’s pathetic story. When she was through 
Mary was sobbing, and Winifred went and leaned 
against her chair and said, “ I am sorry you feel 
bad. What makes you cry ?” 

Mary put her arm around her and said, “ You 
and Robbie remind me of my own little girl and 
boy ; they were here last Christmas, but to-day 
they are sleeping in the churchyard.” 

Winifred laid her cheek against Mary’s and said, 
“ Oh, no, they are not sleeping in the churchyard, 
but are up in heaven with my mamma and papa, 
and Robbie and I are here with you. I know now 
why mamma told me in my dream to take Robbie 
and go toward the little star, and it would tell us 
where to stop ; your little girl and boy up in 
heaven told mamma how lonely you were. Aren’t 
you glad that my little star brought us here ?” 

Then Mary clasped the sweet child to her heart 
and said, “ Blessed be the little star.” And Walter, 
taking Robbie in his arms, repeated fervently, 
“ Blessed be the little star.” 


112 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER XII. 

A GARDEN OF DELIGHTS. 

It is evening again at Miriam’s tower. Hope 
seated by the grate with her guitar in hand, is play- 
ing a dreamy fantasia. A fierce gust of wind 
sweeps around the tower and Miriam, standing 
among her flowers by the south window, says : 

“ Old Boreas is not sighing to-night nor breath- 
ing gently but is showing his true character as he 
did when he seized the nymph Orithyia and carried 
her away on his noisy wings. I believe his sons, 
the winged warriors, are with him to-night and 
they must be chasing those monstrous birds, the 
harpies, through the darkness, round and round 
the upper turrets ; I hear the wild swish of their 
huge wings beating the terrified air.” 

“ Miriam, come here,” interrupted Hope, “and 
sit bown by the grate. You are in a strange mood 
to-night. Never mind the pranks of Old Boreas 
and his brood, what care we for them.” 

Miriam obeyed, sinking into her easy chair be- 
fore the grate and said, “ Now that I have obeyed 
your summons, how are you going to reward my 
prompt obedience ? By singing me a song, telling 
me a story, or relating some wonderful dream ?” 

After a moment of thoughtfulness, Hope said, 



ROBBIE 




A GARDEN OF DELIGHTS 


113 


I will tell you a dream that visited my slumbers 
long ago. It was of a garden and a tower but not 
your garden and your tower, Miriam. It has been 
said that, ‘ Coming events cast their shadows before.' 
This dream perhaps was a shadow of the tower 
and the garden where I would dwell with sweet 
Miriam in the years to come. Now, listen to my 
dream." 

hope’s dream. 

“ I was dwelling in a garden of delights. No dust 
or noise from the outside world reached its quiet 
shade. The row of stately poplars that surrounded 
its vine-draped walls were like sentinels guarding it 
from evil. None but the most beautiful trees grew 
within my garden. Cedars from Lebanon, Palms 
from the land of pyramids, lindens, magnolias and 
catalpas from the sunny south, with the fragrant 
birch, the beech and graceful elm from the north. 
None but the rarest flowers bloomed along the 
winding paths and in the sunlit places ; great roses, 
creamy white and crimson hung upon the trellises, 
mingling their perfume with the sweet magnolias. 
Where the fountains tossed their bright waters in 
the warm sunlight, the tall white lilies grew in per- 
fection of beauty ; and down by the lake, in the 
shade of the weeping willows, the grass was starred 
with lilies-of-the-valley and sweet violets, and on 
the bosom of the lake floated white swans and 
water lilies. The brilliant orchids clung to the 
lichened rocks and filled the air with their rich 


114 


Miriam’s tower 


perfume and in a sheltered corner grew marguerites, 
forget-me-nots and quivering hairbells. On the 
southern wall, in wild profusion, bloomed the pink 
azalias, trailing arbutus and the white clematis with 
its feathery blooms, and other flowers as rare and 
sweet were blooming everywhere. In the shrub- 
bery graceful statues gleamed. And in the marble 
basins gold and silver fishes were playing in the 
limpid waters. 

“ In my garden was a stately tower of red sand- 
stone, half covered with vines. It was surrounded 
by a broad veranda, and little balconies appeared 
here and there in unexpected places. The one that 
I enjoyed most was near the top and was connected 
with my studio where I wrote rare gems in poetry 
and painted wonderful pictures, among them was the 
perfect face of ^ Little Cherub.’ Oh, could I paint 
that exquisite face as I painted it in my dreams ! 
The delicate transparency of the skin, rivaling the 
soft tints of the sea-shell ; the waving golden hair 
that held sunbeams imprisoned in its meshes ; the 
profile as perfect as a cameo, and the splendor of 
the dark, laughing eyes, in whose depths I saw the 
longing for earthly joys blended with the mysteries 
of Paradise. 

“ My garden was full of singing birds. A night- 
ingale sang in a linden tree close to my lofty bal- 
cony. White doves circled around the tower and 
reared their young in the lofty turrets. The ori- 
oles chose the beach trees for their hanging nests, 
the robins and the bluebirds loved the elms best. 


A GARDEN OF DELIGHTS 


115 


The bright-plumaged tropical birds had their homes 
in the palms and magnolias. The little linnet hid 
her tiny nest among the creamy roses on the trel- 
lises and all day long the scented airwas throbbing 
with their music. 

“ I was not alone in my garden. I had two 
faithful companions who followed me wherever I 
went. A stately white stork and a beautiful An- 
gora cat. If I seated myself the cat immediately 
curled himself up in my lap purring softly, while 
the stork stood beside me on one leg, always gaz- 
ing solemnly at the fountains. They were pleasant 
companions and all was harmony within my vine- 
draped walls. But one day an evil thing appeared 
in my garden. I was sitting in a shady spot near 
the fountains when I saw a black reptile (nearly as 
large as my cat) upon the white gravel walk. It 
resembled a toad but had the head of a serpent. 
My cat saw the reptile, arched his back and as he 
sprang upon the walk for closer inspection, the 
reptile leaped upon him and fastened his teeth in 
his pretty white throat. I hurried to the rescue of 
my pet. I put my foot upon the neck of the hid- 
eous thing and the cat escaped. Then I ground it 
beneath my feet, crushing it into the sand, but 
when I stepped aside expecting to see the thing 
crushed and dead, it glided away apparently un- 
hurt, hissing as it went and giving me a vicious 
look from its glittering eyes. After that my gar- 
den gave me no pleasure. I was always looking 
for the reptile and although it might not appear, I 


116 


Miriam’s tower 


knew it was there hiding among the flowers. My 
cat was either a prisoner in the tower or I carried 
him in my arms to save him from his foe. But 
one day when I was in my studio he escaped. I 
looked from my balcony and saw him chasing but- 
terflies down on the velvet lawn, when suddenly 
the reptile glided out from a bed of lilies and 
sprang upon my pet. It was near the fountain 
where the stork was standing in the sunshine prun- 
ing his feathers. When he heard my cry and the 
piteous mew of the cat he ruffled his feathers, 
made a whistling noise and flew to the rescue. 
The cat was saved and with a few strokes of his 
sharp beak the stork killed the reptile, then picking 
it up in his bill he tossed it over the garden wall. 

“ I went down into the garden and seated myself 
in my favorite nook near the fountain, with the 
cat purring in my lap and the stork standing 
beside me, harmony was restored; and I gazed 
with new joy upon the beauties that surrounded 
me. I saw far down the narrowing vista of the 
flower-bordered walk a little fairy form, all in 
white, dancing toward me. As she drew near I 
saw that it was ‘ Little Cherub,’ her golden hair 
floating on the breeze, her eyes like stars, her face 
dimpling with laughter. In her hand she carried 
a bunch of great white lilies, more beautiful than 
any that bloomed in my garden. On her arm 
hung a wreath of white roses. As she passed, she 
tossed the lilies into my lap and the wreath around 
the neck of the stork, then throwing me a kiss, she 


A GARDEN OF DELIGHTS 


117 


went dancing down the walk whirling as she went, 
to throw me kisses from her dimpled hands. As 
she disappeared in the shimmering foliage, I awoke. 
The room seemed full of the heavy fragrance of 
the flowers, and the echoing music of the singing 
birds still sounded in my ears. And was it a stray 
moonbeam that danced across my chamber-floor 
and was lost in the shadows outside my open 
window, or was it the fairy form of ‘ Little 
Cherub 


118 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE LOST PRINCESS. 

It was a wild March night but the shutters were 
closed and the fire burned brightly in the grate. 
Hope was seated in her favorite chair, watching 
sweet Miriam walking restlessly to and fro, now in 
the firelight, now in the shadow. She wore a crim- 
son dress of soft material, in her belt was a bunch 
of white roses, her dark eyes we^e very bright and 
her cheeks softly red. 

“ How fair she is,” thought Hope, “ and no one 
to see her but me.” 

Suddenly the wind began howling down the wide 
fireplace and Miriam said : “ Wild old March 

knows that April is coming to-morrow ; so to-night 
he is giving us a farewell serenade. Hark ! how he 
sweeps his .^olian harp and how weird are the 
echoes of his rollicking song among the turrets and 
swaying tree-tops. Listen to that wild crescendo, 
how the shrill upper notes and deep bass cords go 
thundering around the tower. Oh, 1 am so glad that 
April is coming to-morrow. This morning I heard 
a bluebird singing in the naked elms and caught the 
glint of his azure breast as he flew from tree to tree. 
Tell me Hope, what has the spring in store for me ? 
Will it bring me joy or sorrow ?” 



LEONA 












THE LOST PRINCESS 


119 


Hope was seated with her golden head resting 
against the purple cushions as she listened to Miriam 
with half-closed eyes and smiling lips, but as Miriam 
asked the question, Will it bring me joy or sor- 
row ? ” she opened wide her blue eyes and look- 
ing for a moment into Miriam’s face, she said, 
‘‘ Bring me the guitar, dear.” 

She took the guitar from Miriam’s hand and after 
touching a few chords, she began singing joy- 
ously — 

The spring will bring you joy, sweet one. 

Joy, joy, joy. 

The birds are coming one by one 
Singing, joy, joy, joy ! 

The grasses and the tender leaves. 

Sing, joy, joy, joy ! 

'Tis echoed by the whispering breeze 
Joy, joy, joy! 

The blossoms too will join the song 
Of joy, joy, joy ! 

Tis CO' ing dear, ’twill tarry long. 

Your joy, joy, joy I 

When Hope had finished her song Miriam’s rest- 
lessness had vanished and she said, “Sweet Hope, 
without you I should die, your song has cheered my 
heart. Now, tell me a story, dear, of a noble prince 
and a beautiful princess, who are true to each other, 
true in spite of every adverse fate, so true that noth- 
ing can separate them, not even death, for is not 
love as eternal as Heaven? A story full of weird 


120 


Miriam’s tower 


scenes, and at least one mystery, and, through it 
all let there be music, waving palms and the sound 
of the sea. You must make it so vivid, my dear, 
that I shall hear the music and scent the perfume 
of the tropical flowers. ” 

Hope, watching her eager face, said, with a smile, 
“ Are you not giving me a difficult task, Miriam ?*' 

And she answered, “ Nothing is difficult for you, 
my Hope, now hasten and tell me the story.” 

For a few moments Hope sat looking intently at 
the white roses in Miriam’s belt as though seeking 
inspiration from them, then raising her eyes, she 
said, “ I will tell you the story of ‘ The Lost 
Princess.’ ” 


THE LOST PRINCESS. 

The noble Prince Adrian was betrothed in 
childhood to a princess of a distant realm by his 
father the king. The time was drawing near that 
they should wed but they had never looked upon 
each other’s faces. The prince seemed to know 
his promised bride ; for years he had seen her in 
his dreams and visions ; a slender form of exquisite 
grace, shy dark eyes, soft dark hair, scarlet lips 
and skin of creamy fairness and a low voice, whose 
music thrilled his soul. When she first appeared 
he called her Princess Leonine, and she said, ‘ Call 
me not Leonine but Leona.’ Together, in his 
dreams they roamed through the parks and glens 
of his ancestral home ; together in his white skiff, 
they glided down the placid river, past smiling 


THE LOST PRINCESS 


121 


villas, stately castles and little islands with their 
waving willows, singing as they went floating 
down the winding stream. On moonlight nights 
he often saw her standing beneath the trees 
looking up at the stars, or in the firelight he would 
see her face smiling upon him ; and when he 
wandered alone in the forest he would hear her 
singing some low melody, and, in the dim shady 
distance, see her white form flitting among the 
trees and often, when awakening in the silence of 
the night, he would see her standing in the moon- 
lit spaces of his room. 

“ In visions or dreams she was always in white, 
her face serene and sweet and the love-light ever 
shining from her starry eyes. And all through 
these years of waiting. Prince Adrian walked 
blameless before his people and they loved and 
revered this fair young god, their future king. He 
listened not to the voice of the tempter, no matter 
how alluring, for said he, ‘ I must keep my soul 
white, that I may have nothing to hide when I 
look into the innocent eyes of my beloved prin- 
cess.’ 

‘‘ When at last the time of probation was ended 
with joy unspeakable, he sailed away to that dis- 
tant realm to claim his promised bride, and, after 
a long and perilous journey, he reached the land of 
palms and stood within the stately palace of the 
king, waiting with wildly beating heart, for the 
princess to appear. He had not waited long when 
the silken portieres were raised by a jeweled hand 


122 


Miriam’s tower 


and a magnificent woman stood before him. Very- 
tall, with a form of splendid development, her 
olive skin was like velvet, her full lips were as red 
as the rubies she wore on her neck and arms. Her 
heavy-lidded black eyes were fixed upon his face 
with undisguised admiration, as she came to meet 
him. With indolent grace she gave him her hand 
and said : ‘ Welcome, Prince Adrian, thrice wel- 
come !’ 

“ He bowed low before her, touching his lips to 
her hand and said : ‘ Is it the sister of the Princess 
Leonine that I have the honor to salute ?’ 

“ At these words she snatched her hand from 
grasp, drew her splendid form to its full height, 
and, looking at him with blazing eyes, she said : 
‘ I am the Princess Leonine.’ 

“ At these words he grew pale and a sudden 
faintness seized him, but he quickly recovered him- 
self and said: ‘You forget, princess, that I have 
never looked upon your face until now, so how 
could I recognize you. I had not expected to see 
so magnificent a woman in my mind. I had pictured 
the princess Leonine as petite.’ 

“ She bowed coldly in acknowledgment of the 
compliment, waved him to a seat, and, half reclin- 
ing upon a silken divan, she watched him furtively, 
narrow-eyed but intent, while she questioned him 
of his country and of his journey and he answered 
her automatically, while from his heart there 
surged this continual cry : 


THE LOST PRINCESS 


123 


** * Where are you, where are you, my little 
Leona ?’ 

As he was growing uneasy beneath the scrutiny 
of those narrow eyes, there came an unlooked-for 
diversion. Suddenly a leopard bounded through 
the open window and stood looking at the prince. 
He was a splendid creature, sleek and spotted. 
His great yellow eyes glowed upon the prince as 
he lashed his tail in suppressed fury. The prince 
was speechless for a moment with mingled 
emotions of surprise, admiration and terror, then 
he sprang to his feet looking about him for some 
weapon with which to protect the princess and 
himself, when the princess said : 

‘ Calm yourself. Prince Adrian, this is my pet 
cat, he will not harm you.” 

“ Then she said to the leopard, ‘ Come hither, 
Leo,’ and he obeyed, fawning upon her and pur- 
ring loudly and licking her hands. When she 
tired of his caresses,, she said, ‘ Down, Leo,’ and 
he dropped at her feet, still purring and playing 
with the ruby buckles of her slippers. 

“After a half hour of almost unbroken silence be- 
tween the prince and princess, she preferring to 
look at the prince, rather than to talk with him ; 
there was another diversion even more startling 
than the first. Suddenly the soft purring of the 
leopard was changed to an ominous growling, his 
bright eyes were turned toward the open doorway, 
while he beat the floor with his long tail. 

“ As the prince looked toward the door, for a mo- 


124 


Miriam’s tower 


ment his heart stood still with terror. With half 
its glittering length in the room and half upon the 
veranda, was an immense serpent. When it saw 
the leopard, it came no farther but lay across the 
threshold, hissing as it showed its forked tongue, 
its emerald eyes fixed upon the cat. 

“ Again the princess said : ‘ Calm yourself, my 
dear prince, it is only another of my pets, harmless, 
I assure you. Be quiet, Leo,’ and the leopard lay 
quiet, but with its angry eyes still turned toward 
the snake. 

My pets are not fond of each other,’ said the 
princess, ‘ but thus far they have only expressed 
their dislike by growls and hisses ; for the leopard 
knows that the snake can crush, and the snake 
knows that the leopard has teeth and claws ; but 
some day their hatred will overcome their fear of 
fangs and coils, then they will destroy each other. 
My pets are like human beings, they know how to 
love and they know how to hate.’ 

‘‘To the prince this first interview with the prin- 
cess seemed like a horrible dream, from which he 
longed to awaken. It left a vivid picture upon 
his mind never to be forgotten. The warm, lan- 
guorous air, heavy with the fragrance of the tropi- 
cal flowers, the half barbarous splendor of the spa- 
cious room, with its polished floor, its oriental rugs, 
and silken hangings ; the snake, glittering in the 
sunlight, as it lay half asleep across the threshold, 
the tawny leopard lying at the feet of that dark, 
beautiful woman, who, to the prince, seemed to 


THE LOST PRINCESS 


125 


possess both the nature of the leopard and the 
snake, the stealthy movements of the half-naked 
slaves, as their dark forms appeared and disap- 
peared, passing the open doorway. 

“ That night, in his dreams, he saw Leona, pale 
and sad. With tearful eyes she looked at him, 
holding out her arms toward him, but when he 
approached her, she vanished. 

“ He arose the next morning with a heavy heart, 
he was already tired of this strange country, and 
longed for the hills, the vales, and the cooling 
breezes of his native land. He dreaded another 
interview with the Princess Leonine. He knew he 
could never wed with her, for his heart was already 
Leona’s. But who was Leona, and where was she ? 
He never doubted for a moment her existence, for 
had he not unmistakable evidence ? Spirit com- 
municating with spirit ; soul speaking with soul. 
The spirit knows no bonds, the soul knows no bar- 
riers. Yes, she lived and he loved her, and some 
day they would meet. 

At the close of another day much like the first, 
the prince and the Princess Leonine, with the 
other members of the household, were seated upon 
the veranda, watching the dark, lithe forms of the 
half-naked slaves, in their fantastic dance under 
the colored lights upon the lawn, and finally the 
sorceres came and, through strange machinations, 
changed their ribbons into snakes that glided 
across the lawn and disappeared in the shrubbery ; 
and tossing white rosebuds into the air, they were 


126 


Miriam’s tower 


changed into little singing birds, that fluttered for 
awhile, then were lost in the foliage of the laurels. 

“ Suddenly from out the shadows stepped an old 
woman, tall and gaunt, her face haggard and 
colorless, and her eyes blazing in their deep sockets. 
The men fell back as she appeared. She stood for 
a moment looking about her and then approached 
one of the frightened slaves, waving her wand 
about him and as she crooned in dismal tones, he 
fell upon his face and a gray vapor gathered 
around him, and when it cleared away, a black dog 
was crouching at the feet of the sorceress, whining 
piteously. After a moment of intense silence, the 
slaves fled shrieking from her presence. After 
.standing for awhile with her firey eyes fixed upon 
the shuddering group on the veranda, she began 
waving her wand over the dog, still whining at her 
feet. As she crooned her weird song, the gray 
vapor gathered around the dog and as it cleared 
away, the slave sprang to his feet, gave the woman 
one terrified glance, then fled shrieking from her 
presence as the others had done. And the sorcer- 
ess disappeared in the shadows as suddenly as she 
had come. Then the Princess Leonine called one 
of the slaves and said, ‘ Bring the harp and the 
singer, nothing but music can dispel this horror.’ 

“ The slave soon returned with the harp and follow- 
ing him was a slender girlish form, in white and as 
she came forward into the light, the prince, speech- 
less with joyful surprise, looked into the face of 
Leona ; their eyes met, heart spoke to heart. 


THE LOST PRINCESS 


127 


there was no need of words. The look that 
passed between them had not escaped the eye 
of the Princess Leonine, and she said sharply to 
the girl : 

“ ‘ Why do you wait, touch the harp and sing.* 
Then she swept her white fingers over the strings 
and began singing in a low, sweet voice, the notes 
quivering then swelling into rich melody, floating 
out upon the air and echoing through the grove. 

Oh, love, sacred, benign ! 

To my soul what heavenly bliss ’tis bringing; 

In my ears the bridal bells are ringing; 

And a little bird within my heart is singing 
A hymn of love divine. 

My love thine ear incline. 

Hark to the song that from my heart is welling. 

List to the story that my bird is telling. 

The little bird that in my heart is dwelling — 

This loving heart of mine. 


As I quaff love’s ruby wine 
The silent stars, my ecstasy divining 
For me increase the splendor of their shining. 
The vines caress my feet around them twining, 
They know that I am thine. 


The blossoms, too, define. 

This mystery, this bliss, my heart beguiling. 

They look into my face all brightly smiling. 

And softly exclaim, the stars and grasses rivaling 
Oh love, thou art sublime ! 


128 


Miriam’s tower 


What holy joy is mine ! 

The tendrils of my heart round thine are clinging, 

My spirit, its glad flight to thee is winging. 

And my little heart-bird still is singing, singing 
Of this love, this love divine. 

“As the last note still quivered on the air, a 
nightingale burst forth into song and they sang on 
and on together, the girl and the bird, pouring 
out their hearts in rapturous melody, until the 
Princess Leonine, waving her jeweled hand, cried : 
^ Cease !. I am tired of the music.’ And as Leona 
left the lawn, the princess saw the look of tender 
admiration in the face of the prince as his eyes 
followed her retreating form and noted how trem- 
ulous was his voice as he asked : 

Who is the beautiful singer?’ 

“ ‘ A princess of a small eastern realm,’ she re- 
plied, ‘ taken captive, when, through victorious 
warfare, her father’s realm was added to our king- 
dom.’ 

“ The prince could not sleep that night, his 
heart was so full of joy, not unmixed with gloomy 
forebodings, that his joy could not dispel. He 
arose early thenextmorning and as he walked across 
the lawn, the weird scene of the past night with 
its beautiful ending, seemed like some marvelous 
dream or vision of the night. 

“ The scene that spread out before him was of 
rare beauty. The tropical flowers were blooming 
everywhere in luxurious profusion. The trees 
were festooned with glossy vines, their tendrils 


THE LOST PRINCESS 


129 


gently swaying in the breezes. The ocean lay 
calm as a lake in the sunlight. A few white skiffs 
were drifting upon its bosom, and in the distance 
was a ship, faintly outlined against the pale blue 
sky. The prince bared his head and looked about 
him ; the flowers seemed to smile upon him, and 
all the bright-winged birds were singing love-songs 
in the waving palms. His face was full of joy, 
and he said aloud : 

“ ‘ Yesterday I saw no beauty in this scene, but 
to-day it is perfect, for Leona is near,’ and as he 
spoke, he saw her standing a little way off looking 
out across the ocean. He quickly joined her and 
they clasped hands for the first time and looked 
into each others eyes, reading there the sweet old 
story that their lips had not yet spoken. 

>“ ‘ Come with me down to the lake,’ said the 
prince, still holding her hand, ‘ I have much to say 
to you.” 

“And when they had reached the lake and 
seated themselves under the laurels, he told her 
how he had known her all these years in his dreams 
and visions, and she, too, in dreams and visions 
had seen his face and heard his voice, and knew 
him last night under the colored lights, and sang 
for him as she had never sang before. Then 
they talked of the future, building shining castles 
to the skies. 

“‘Three days from now,’ said the prince, ‘a 
ship sails from this port that will carry us to our 
northern home j we will be married on shipboard.’ 


130 


Miriam’s tower 


“ As they were about to part, the prince said : 
* Last night I had evil forebodings, and even your 
presence, my dear, cannot drive them away.’ 

^ Fear not, Adrian,’ said she, ‘ nothing can sep- 
arate for long, those who truly love ; there are no 
limitations for the soul. Were you lost in the fast- 
nesses of the mountains, or wandering helplessly in 
the recesses of the forests, or cast alone upon some 
bleak island of the sea, my soul, like a bird, would 
fly to thee guided by love, unwavering in its flight, 
and folding not its wings until it entered the open 
portals of its home, within thy heart.’ 

Your words cheer my soul,’ said the prince, 
and with one long embrace they parted, little 
thinking of the dread experiences that awaited 
them before they would meet again. 

When they had gone, from out the shrubbery 
stepped the Princess Leonine, her eyes were blaz- 
ing and her face was white with rage, as she hissed : 
‘ Prince Adrian, you will never see Leona’s face 
again.’ ” 


THE WHISPERING SHELL 


131 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE WHISPERING SHELL. 

That night the Princess Leonine was alone in 
an upper room of the palace. She was impatiently 
pacing to and fro across the room, often stopping 
to lift the heavy hangings at the door, listening 
intently, and when her expeeted visitor appeared 
it was the gaunt sorceress who had plied her arts 
upon the lawn the night before. Leonine ap- 
proached her and asked : 

“ ‘ Can you tell me why I sent for you, wise sor- 
ceress ?’ 

She answered not, but grasped the hand of the 
princess and closed her eyes, rubbing the hand 
softly between her palms, and said in a low, croon- 
ing voice, ‘You love the fair prince from the 
northland, and wish me to destroy your rival. 
Then opening her eyes and dropping the hand of 
the princess, she asked, ‘ What of the dark-eyed 
prince you promised to wed T 

“‘I love him no more,’ answered the princess 
impatiently. ‘ I will wed none but the Prince 
Adrian ; he shall be mine. Oh, he is so beautiful ! 
His skin is like the milk of the cocoanut, his hair 
is like burnished gold, and his blue eyes shame my 
sapphires.” 

“ ‘ Why have you sent for me. Princess Leonine ?’ 


132 


Miriam’s tower 


interrupted the woman. ‘ The Princess Leona is 
a prisoner of war, you have a right to take her life 
if it pleases you.’ 

“ ‘ But it does not please me,’ answered the prin- 
cess. ‘ If I take her life, her freed spirit would 
scorn Heaven to stay with him ; and with her soul 
hovering near him, I could never win his love. 
You must transform her into a fish, and imprison her 
in this shell,’ taking a beautiful shell from the table, 
^ and then in my ship you shall sail toward the set- 
ting sun, and when three days out drop the shell 
into the sea, and there, beneath fathoms and fathoms 
of water, her imprisoned spirit can reach him no 
more.’ 

“ Upon the table beside the shell were two small 
ebony caskets. The princess took a golden key 
from her belt and unlocked them. And when the 
sorceress drew near she saw that they were filled 
with sparkling jewels of great value. Her fiery 
eyes gloated over them, and she looked eagerly at 
the princess, who said, ‘You shall have one casket 
to-night, and the other when you return from mid- 
ocean, if you do your work well.’ 

“She grasped one of the caskets in her bony 
hand, and said, with a harsh laugh, ‘Never fear, 
the work shall be well done.’ 

“ ‘ Follow me,’ said the princess, ‘ it must be 
done to-night.’ 

“ Through corridor after corridor sped the ill- 
assorted pair, until the princess stopped before a 
door in the east wing. In her hand she held a key 


THE WHISPERING SHELL 


133 


with which she unlocked the door and entered, 
followed by the sorceress. 

“ It was a large room, heavy and sombre ; a 
colored lamp shed a faint light in the centre of the 
room, increasing the dark shadows in the corners. 
Upon a bed, beneath a crimson canopy, lay the 
beautiful form of Princess Leona. 

“ ‘ She will not awake,’ said Leonine, ‘ for I have 
given her drugged wine.’ 

“ The hard face of the sorceress softened for a 
moment as she looked upon the fair, innocent face 
of the sleeping girl, and, turning to the princess 
Leonine, she said. ^And you, a young girl like 
herself, wish me to destroy her, it is not yet too 
late to save your soul from this black crime. Here, 
I will return the jewels,’ holding out the casket 
toward her. 

“ For an instant Leonine stood irresolute, look- 
ing upon the sleeping form before her, but as she 
looked, a smile dimpled the face of the sleeper and 
she murmured softly, ‘Adrian, Adrian,’ then the 
face of the princess hardened and she said to the 
sorceress, ‘ Now I will leave you, see that your 
work is well done.’ 

“ The next morning there was great consternation 
at the palace ; the captive Princess Leona had dis- 
appeared. The Princess Leonine offered great re- 
wards for her safe return, then the unavailing 
search began. The Prince Adrian searched day 
and night, scarcely eating or sleeping; and one 
day, while standing on the beach, he heard the 


134 


Miriam’s tower 


voice of Leona, calling him across the deep, again 
and again ; she called, ‘ Adrian ! Adrian !’ And that 
night he sailed away across the sea and by night 
and by day he heard her voice calling to him from 
the depths, ^ Adiran ! Adrian !’ 

“ After months of fruitless search in that strange 
land beyond the sea he again stood upon the beach 
and heard the voice of his lost love, calling to him 
from the waters. One night there was a wild 
storm upon the ocean ; the waves rolled mountain 
high, sweeping inland and threatening the quaint 
old city with destruction. But the next morning 
all was calm and as Prince Adrian walked upon 
the beach, he saw a beautiful shell at his feet ; he 
picked it up and holding it to his ear, but instead of 
the sound of the sea, he seemed to hear a voice whis- 
pering from within, and he said, ‘ Beautiful whis- 
pering shell, are you trying to tell me of Leona ?’ 
As he held the shell in his hand a sweet peace, that 
he had not known for months, calmed his soul and 
a longing for home took possession of his heart 
and the next day he sailed toward the north, carry- 
ing the whispering shell with him. And through 
that long voyage, he heard no more the voice of 
Leona calling from the deep. There was joy in 
the palace and joy in the realm when the prince, 
whom they had mourned as dead, returned after 
his long absence, and long silence. When the first 
joyful greeting was over, they asked for the 
princess. 


THE WHISPERING SHELL 


135 


He answered sadly, ‘ She is lost and no one can 
find her.’ 

“ When those who loved him saw how changed 
he was, they said, ‘ The prince is always sad, and 
when he smiles his smile is sadder than tears.’ 

“ His grief for the lost princess was touching 
because of its unselfishness. So kind and thought- 
ful was he of those about him, looking after the 
poor of his realm, alleviating, as far as possible, all 
suffering and distress, and he was very kind to 
young lovers, and very good to little children ; and 
all his people mourned with him because of his 
great sorrow, and at night when the little ones re- 
peated their prayers, they asked the kind Father 
to restore the lost princess to their beloved 
prince. 

“ One day a young lord, from a near city, who 
knew the prince and loved him well, came to the 
palace and asked for an interview with the prince. 
During the interview he said, ‘ I have heard. Prince 
Adrian, of your great sorrow for the lost princess 
and I am come to tell you of a strange woman 
that has lately appeared in our city ; she pos- 
sesses the wonderful power of being able to tell of 
the past also of the future and to penetrate the 
mysterious and secret things that are hidden from 
others. I believe, oh prince, that she can tell you 
of the lost princess.’ 

“The prince sprang to his feet, his face flushing 
with hope and said, ‘ I will return with you, my 
lord, if you will take me to this woman.’ 


13G 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


“ They started immediately and when they 
reached the city, the lord, without delay, conducted 
the prince to the dwelling of this gifted woman. He 
waited in a lofty room, with hangings of crimson 
and gold. The rich carpet, the velvet chairs, the 
lamp shades were all of the same crimson tone ; a 
fire glowed in the deep grate and a few rare 
pictures hung upon the walls. He had hardly fin- 
ished his survey of the room, when the woman ap- 
peared ; he arose and they stood looking at each 
other for a moment, without speaking, and the 
prince never forgot the impression the woman 
made upon him at the first moment of their meet- 
ing. 

“ A tall, slender form in black of soft clinging 
material, the black lace scarf at the neck was fas- 
tened with a large opal, leaving the white throat 
bare. Of her age no one could judge. Her soft 
wavy hair was perfectly white and coiled high upon 
her shapely head and ornamented with an arrow 
of black onyx and opals and she held a wand in 
her long white hand. The oval face, with its per- 
fect features, was serene and colorless as marble ; 
there was not a furrow or line of age upon her 
face, and yet it seemed that the joys, the sorrows, 
the experiences of all lives were centered in this 
one face and her wonderful eyes were speaking the 
things her lips could not utter. 

‘‘ In a moment she approached the prince and 
took his hand in hers and gazed fixedly into his 
eyes, then dropping his hand she motioned him to 


THE WHISPERING SHELL 


137 


be seated, then seating herself beside him and 
placing his hand upon the cushioned arm of the 
chair, she laid her hand upon his, and, with the 
other hand began waving the wand before their 
faces with rhythmical motion. As the prince felt a 
drowsiness stealing over him, he looked at the 
woman ; her face was ghastly white, her eyes were 
closed and her lips moving, then he knew no more 
until he felt a cool hand stroking his forehead and 
heard a musical voice saying, ‘ Av/ake, prince, 
awake !’ 

“ With an effort he opened his eyes and the 
woman stood before him smiling. There was a 
new light in her wonderful eyes and she said in 
joyous tones, ‘ Be sad no more, oh, prince, the 
lost princess is found.’ 

“ Then said the prince eagerly, ‘ Where is she ? 
oh, tell me, kind friend, for my heart is weary with 
waiting.’ 

“ ‘ You shall see her soon,’ said the woman 
* come at this hour to-morrow and bring with you 
the whispering shell that you found on the beach 
of a foreign shore.’ 

“ Then with a wave of her hand she dismissed 
him. Bewildered he walked with unsteady steps 
down the broad stairway, and his friend, waiting 
for him below, grasped his hand and said, ‘ I need 
not ask if you have good news of the princess, 
your face tells the tale.’ 

“ The prince returned to the palace that night. 
Conflicting emotions of joy, hope, doubt and fear. 


138 


Miriam’s tower 


drove away all slumber from his couch ; the night 
seemed endless but the morning dawned at last 
and he hastened to the city, carrying with him the 
precious shell, and at the appointed hour stood 
again in the crimson room in the presence of the 
woman who had promised to restore the lost prin- 
cess. When he gave her the shell she held it to 
her ear for a moment, then with a smile, she laid it 
upon the carpet and motioning the prince to a seat, 
she said, ‘ Fix your eyes upon the shell, speak not, 
move not, and you shall witness a wonderful trans- 
formation.’ 

“ Then she began waving her wand over the shell, 
and the prince saw it slowly opening in the centre 
where the two edges, like the teeth of a saw, closed 
together, and a pale silvery mist issued from the 
shell, increasing in volume and density, until it 
reached half way to the lofty ceiling. In the cen- 
ter of this luminous mist, there appeared a slender 
line of white, gradually widening and changing into 
a shadowy human form, becoming more and more 
distinct as the mist faded away, until the fair form 
of lost Leona met the enraptured gaze of the 
prince. She stood beside the open shell in her 
white garments, looking about her in a dazed man- 
ner, until her eyes rested upon the prince, then she 
held out her arms and murmured : 

“ ‘ Adrian, my love.’ 

“ The prince, who had been speechless and unable 
to move, sprang to his feet and clasped her in his 
arms. And they both knelt at the feet of the 


THE WHISPERING SHELL 


139 


woman who had restored them to happiness, kiss- 
ing her hands, weeping and blessing her. And she, 
caressing them with her white fingers, said : 

“ ‘ I am as happy as you, ‘ It is more blessed to 
give than to receive.’ There are two great forces 
in the world, one is to destroy, the other to restore. 
Be not satisfied because you are not of those who 
destroy ; but stand as white and shining lights in 
the noble ranks of the unselfish ones who give, give, 
give, that the world may be brighter and better.” 


140 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE LILY-BULB ROOMS. 

Easter morning dawned fair and bright. As 
soon as the sun appeared above the Shining Heights, 
Miriam and Hope left the tower, and crossing the 
fields and the purple hills, they soon reached the 
quaint old village and entered the little stone 
chapel. And when they were seated, they felt 
stealing into their hearts, the holy calm that per- 
vaded the ancient sanctuary. The air was heavy 
with incense from the swinging censers. The sub- 
dued light from the tapers burning upon the altar, 
only half revealed the dim paintings upon the walls, 
and the statues in the shadowy niches. When the 
music of the old organ rolled forth, filling all the 
perfumed spaces with solemn melody, and the 
voices of the invisible choir began chanting their 
hymns of praise, Hope’s face was illumined, and 
the tears fell upon Miriam’s flushed cheeks ; and 
when the last joyful strain of the easter anthem 
had died away, and the girls stepped out into the 
sunshine, they stood for a moment looking about 
them with bewildered faces. 

They had forgotten for a brief season, that any 
thing existed but the ancient chapel, and the sacred 
music that filled their souls with holy ecstasy. 


THE LILY-BULB ROOMS 


141 


They lingered for awhile in the village, then 
turned their faces toward home, and as they 
walked across the brown meadows, with here and 
there a hint of green, the bluebirds were singing, 
anJ they found a few violets blooming along the 
winding stream. The brisk walk across the fields, 
in the bracing air, had brought roses and diamonds 
into the cheeks and eyes of the happy girls, and 
their voices had a new and joyous ring. When 
they reached the tower the sun was just sinking 
behind the Shining Heights. And now it was even- 
ing again and very cool. The lamps had not been 
lighted in Miriam’s sitting-room, but the room was 
cheerful in the flickering firelight. Hope stood 
before the grate and the light played around her 
graceful form, giving a new charm to its stateli- 
ness ; and played with the white gleam and sparkle 
of her jeweled hands, and touched the braids that 
crowned her fair head with ruddy gold. The 
moonlight flooded the south window, and where it 
met and mingled with the firelight, Miriam stood 
among the lilies, the fairest of them all. Hope 
had been watching her, and she broke the silence 
by saying : 

“ Little Miriam, you look like a fairy in your 
white dress among your white lilies.” 

** I was thinking of fairies, answered Miriam, 
You promised me a story this evening, let it be a 
fairy tale. You shall be my mother and I will be 
your little girl, just for to-night, and you will tell 
your little one a fairy tale. Now seat yourself, 


142 


Miriam’s tower 


sweet mother, and I will bring my stool and sit 
down at your feet and lay my arms across your 
lap, just this way, and listen with wide eyes to the 
wonderful tale. I can already see the fairies danc- 
ing in the firelight,” she added with a laugh. 

Hope was silent for a few moments and then 
said, My little girl, I will now weave you a fairy 
tale from your easter lilies and your fairies danc- 
ing in the firelight, and it shall be called ‘ The Lily- 
Bulb Rooms.’” 

THE LILY-BULB ROOMS. 

“ In the midst of an unexplored sea is a little 
island of exquisite beauty. No storm ever beat 
on its silvery strands, for the sea is always calm. 
No grass grows upon this island, but the ground 
is covered with moss, deep and soft ; nothing was 
ever so green as this mossy carpet. Little feathery 
palms are ever waving in the fragrant breezes ; 
no other trees grow on the island, and of flowers 
there are nothing but lilies — wonderful, great white 
lilies filling the air with richest perfume and these 
lilies, never fade. Little birds with brilliant plum- 
age warble in the . palm trees and the air is all 
a quiver with bright-winged butterflies. This 
island is the home of the fairies, they have lived 
here for years, yea for ages ; they are good fairies 
and beautiful ; they never grow old and they 
never die. Each fairy has a lily for her home. 
The white room in the lily cup is as lovely as a 
dream. And from the white room, is a spiral 


THE LILY BULB ROOMS 


143 


stairway within the stem of the lily, leading down 
to a room in the bulb, a little room hung in pale 
green and lighted with fireflies. At night, when 
the fairies enter their homes, the lilies close their 
white cups, shutting out the dew or gentle rain. 

“ In the centre of the island is a terraced mound, 
covered with a mossy carpet, and upon the mound 
grows a lily, many times larger than the others. 
This is the home of the beautiful and beloved 
queen of the fairies. Here, in her white palace, 
with her maids of honor, she holds her court. The 
white throne-room is spacious and beautiful and 
so are the lily-bulb rooms down in the cool earth. 
The fairies weave their dainty dresses from the 
pink and white sea-weed that floats in with the 
tide ; they also use it for food, eating it with the 
milk of the cocoanuts. The cocoanuts that grow 
on the palm trees are no larger than filberts and 
the little gray squirrels open them for the fairies. 
The squirrels are used for steeds, they are very 
fleet but gentle. They often carry the fairies to 
the top of the trees, where the most delicious fruit 
is found, and there they love to sit eating fruit and 
talking to the birds. Fairies understand the lan- 
guage of birds. Quite often a bird says to a fairy, 
‘ Seat yourself between my wings and I will give 
you a ride in the upper air,’ and no fairy was ever 
known to refuse a treat so rare. 

“ One day, when the fairies were dancing on the 
green, singing as they danced a little merman, 
floating on the waves, heard them singing and 


144 


Miriam’s tower 


watched them for hours, but they saw him not. 
When he returned to his home, in the coral caves, 
beneath the sea, he told the king of the mermen 
about the island and the beautiful fairies. He was 
a wicked little king and he said to the man that 
brought the news, ' To-morrow I will take a hun- 
dred men and you shall guide us to the island and 
each man must capture a fairy, but the queen of 
the fairies shall be mine, and they shall sing and 
dance for us in our coral halls beneath the waves.’ 

The next morning the fairy queen from her 
white veranda, saw the hundred mermen all in 
green, landing on the beach. 

“‘To the lilies ! to the lilies !’ she cried, and each 
fairy fled to her lily home and down the stairway, 
hiding herself in the lily-bulb room, and the lilies 
folded their white cups, so when the little mermen 
marched to the centre of the island, all was silent 
save the twitter of the frightened birds in the top 
of the palm trees. The mermen searched every- 
where, but not a fairy did they find. 

“ Then the little king swore a big oath and said, 
to the guide, ‘ Find me the fairies, or this night 
you shall be food for the fishes.’ The fairies hear- 
ing his terrible voices trembled until the lilies 
shook on their stems. After searching the island 
again and again, the king said to the guide sneer- 
ingly, ‘You saw the butterflies and mistook them 
for fairies and just as they were leaving the island, 
the king said, pointing to the lilies, ‘ What strange 
plants are these, with their long green leaves 


THE LILY-BULB ROOMS 


145 


and their long white buds ? We have nothing like 
them.’ Then said he to the guide, ^ take up one of 
the plants carefully, without harming the roots^ 
and I will plant it in my garden under the sea.” 

And the man did as he was bidden, and they 
carried away the lily with the poor little fairy a 
prisoner in her lily-bulb room. 

‘‘ It was a long time after the mermen left the 
island before the fairies dared to come forth, and 
when they did they discovered the loss of the lily 
and they cried : ‘ It is Freda, sweet little Freda, 
that is gone !’ Then they wrung their tiny hands 
and threw themselves upon the ground, weeping 
and tearing their golden tresses. It was their 
first grief, they had never known that there was 
any sorrow in the world, and where their tears 
moistened the ground, there sprang up new flowers 
that had never bloomed there before. They were 
passion flowers, as purple as Freda’s eyes. 

“ But what of poor little Freda ? The king of the 
mermen planted the lily in his garden close to the 
coral cliffs and little Freda was a prisoner in her 
lily-bulb room, with only the fireflies for company; 
and she had to eat her pretty sea-weed dresses to 
keep herself from starving. But after many weeks, 
that seemed like years to poor Freda, one day a 
ray of light penetrated the spiral stairway and 
Freda, with wildly beating heart, crept up just a 
little way, and saw the blue sky through the open 
lily. Then she bounded up the stairway to the 
white room and found that the lily had grown up, 


146 


Miriam’s tower 


up, through fathoms and fathoms of water, seek- 
ing her natural element, the air and sunshine. 

‘“What shall I do now?’ said Freda, after the 
first joyful moments had past, ‘ Here is the ocean 
all around me and my island home is far away.’ 
But a little way off she saw a dolphin playing in 
the water ; she called him and when he came, she 
told him her story, and he said : 

“ Leap upon my back, little one, and I will carry 
you home.” 

It was a joyful ride for Freda and when they 
reached the island the fairies danced around her in 
joy and carried her in their arms to the palace of 
the queen. Then they held a festival of rejoicing 
that lasted many days. They invited the good 
dolphin, not only to the festival, but to make the 
island his home. He thanked them kindly but 
said the atmosphere was too dry for him, he pre- 
ferred a damp climate. He was always a friend to 
the fairies and gave them many a ride on his back. 
He would carry a thousand at a time and they 
often visited the spot where the white lily rears her 
stately head above the waves and the fairies love 
to listen down the snowy tube, to the mermen 
laughing and singing in their home beneath the 
sea. Freda now lives in the white palace of the 
queen, the tiniest and sweetest of all her maids of 
honor, and the good dolphin guards the island, so 
that the wicked little mermen can molest the 
fairies no more. Although, Freda returned and 
happiness was restored, still it can never be quite 


THE LILY-BULB ROOMS 


147 


the same again on the beautiful island, for bloom- 
ing there are the purple flowers, as fadeless as the 
lilies, ever reminding the fairies that there is sin 
and sorrow in the world.” 


148 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER XVL 

LITTLE BLOSSOM. 

It was a calm evening in June ; Miriam and 
Hope were seated upon one of the upper balconies 
of the tower silently watching the white skiffs 
floating upon the silvery bosom of the lake. The 
spires, the turrets, the white walls of the city be- 
yond the lake were flooded with moonlight and 
the faint sound of distant bells wafted in on the 
breeze, mingled with the music from a skiff near 
the shore. Miriam and Hope watching the skiff as 
it reached the landing, saw two men and two girls 
in white step from the boat and they continued 
their song as they walked, two by two, along the 
narrow path, leading past the tower. And as 
they approached, the words of a familiar song 
reached Miriam’s ears and they brought to mind 
one other perfect night when she listened shyly to 
a beloved voice beneath her balcony, singing the 
words that now smite her ears, falling so lightly 
from the lips of the gays ones passing by : 

Come out into the moonlight love, 

The night is calm and fair 

The stars are smiling from above ; 

There’s perfume in the air. 

Come love, come, come, come, 

I wait ; I wait ; 

'Tislate; ’tis late ; 

Come love, qome. come, come 



LITTLE BLOSSOM 





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LITTLE BLOSSOM 


149 


J 


As the last notes died away in the distance, tears 
sprang to Miriam’s eyes, and Hope saw them 
glistening in the moonlight and asked : 

“ Why are you sad, my Miriam ?” 

And she answered : 

It is the song that makes me sad, but I will 
think of it no more. Tell me a story, Hope ; let it 
be a true story. I am afraid, my dear, that your 
beautiful stories, all ending like fairy tales, are not 
true to life. There was a time when I would have 
believed them true, but, alas ! that time is past and 
I am so young,” she said, sadly, “to have lost 
faith in humanity. Oh, for the perfect faith that I 
once possessed ! The world was so beautiful to 
me then ; my little world, encompassed by the 
purple hills, the lake, the woods and the Shining 
Heights. Then Peace and Content were my com- 
panions ; but where are they now? I know that 
they will never come back to me again. What 
sweet dreams I had in those calm, pleasant days ; 
I dreamed of love that would crown my life with 
joy inexpressible ; the beginning of heaven on 
earth, and reaching out into eternity. I believed 
that man, created in God’s own image, was a part 
of the divine ; that to him a woman’s heart was a 
sacred thing, and not a toy to be lightly handled, 
then cast aside as a worthless bauble. Oh, my 
false love ( if only the bitter memories remained, I 
might forget, but sweet memories are ever linger- 
ing near to mock me with fair visions of the past.” 

“ Talk no more of the past,” said Hope, “ but 


150 


Miriam’s tower 


turn your eyes toward the future ; the fair, unex- 
plored future is still before you. Now, listen, dear, 
and I will tell you a true story — the story of Little 
Blossom.” 

LITTLE BLOSSOM. 

‘‘They were known at the grim old tenement 
house as ‘ Little Blossom and the grandmother.’ 
Four years had passed since they came to the old 
house and rented a couple of rooms on the second 
floor. When their effects were carried in they 
seemed to be quite out of keeping with the sur- 
roundings, as did Little Blossom and the grand- 
mother. They had a few pieces of furniture, some- 
what worn, but rich and antique, and oriental rugs 
and curtains that had once been very handsome. 
There was a box of books, several rare gems in 
oil paintings, a guitar and an outfit of artist’s mate- 
rials. Little Blossom was thirteen, but so tiny 
that she seemed much younger. A little sprite, as 
merry as a lark, with wide, brown eyes, like a rob- 
bin’s, and her small head was covered with a mass 
of short, chestnut curls ; her cheeks were round, 
pink and dimpled like a baby’s, and dimples were 
continually playing around the sweet red mouth. 
The grandmother was stately and gentle ; her calm, 
fine face was unwrinkled, but her soft waving hair 
was white, and she wore it high upon her head, 
fastened with a silver comb. The people that 
lived in the old tenement house were very poor, 
but respectable. Little Blossom and the grand- 


LITTLE BLOSSOM 


151 


mother, while searching for cheaper lodgings, found 
this short, narrow street, quiet and clean, and it 
seemed safe and far removed from the noise and 
dust of the poverty-stricken districts of the great 
city. The new-comers were very interesting, not 
only to the people of the house where they had 
taken up their abode, but to the whole neighbor- 
hood. As Blossom and her grandmother took their 
morning walks, they were followed by many admir- 
ing and curious eyes. The women said the grand- 
mother looked like a queen and the little one was 
a fairy. 

“ ‘ It is plain to be seen,’ said the women, ‘ that 
they have once been grand people and rich, and it 
is harder for them to be poor than for us, who 
have never known anything but poverty. 

“ In a little while. Blossom knew every one 
in the neighborhood and she visited them all, but 
her visits were very short ; she flashed in and out of 
the humble homes like a bright-winged bird or a 
ray of sunshine, and every one loved her. Blossom 
had her hours of study and recited her lessons to 
the grandmother, whose delicate fingers were al- 
ways busy weaving the filmy laces that gave bread 
and shelter to her and little Blossom. They were 
everything to each other, this white-haired woman 
and little girl. At night when Blossom saw her 
beloved grandmother, pale and tired from bend- 
ing all day over the laces, kissing her fondly, she 
would say, ‘ Poor mother, you are working too 
hard, but by and by you shall rest and I, with my 


152 


Miriam’s tower 


brush, will take care of you. I know that I shall 
paint such beautiful pictures that no one can help 
buying them.’ 

“ In two years after they came to the old tene- 
ment house, the grandmother’s eyes began to fail, 
and in a little while, she could see no longer to 
weave the laces, then they moved to the third floor 
because the rent was less. The day they moved, 
with the help of the good people in the house. 
Blossom laughed and sang as she tripped up the 
winding stairs with the light things that she could 
carry and kept them all laughing at her merry 
jokes. 

“ ‘ The higher the rooms are, the lower they are,’ 
said she, and standing upon the upper landing, she 
called down to those below her, ‘ Farewell, my 
humble friends, henceforth mother and I will 
move in higher circles.’ 

“ They all joined in her merry laugh, but there 
were tears in their eyes and a kind-faced Irish 
woman said, as she wiped her tears with her apron, 

‘ The swate darlint, the swate darlint, how she 
thries to make the best of it all.’ 

That evening when Blossom and the grand- 
mother had put the rooms in order, and were 
seated at their frugal meal, Blossom said cheer 
fully, ‘ Mother, I believe it is more healthful and 
pleasanter up here. The rooms are the same size 
and we still have our balcony. I really could not 
live without a balcony. It is there, on moonlight 
nights, that I have my most beautiful visions and 


LITTLE BLOSSOM 


153 


build my shining castles to the clouds with the old 
wooden balcony for their foundations, but now I 
have something to do besides building air castles ; 
to-morrow I am going out to sell the flowers that 
I have painted, we shall soon have plenty of money. 
My designs for Christmas cards and Easter cards 
will surely bring us money. Didn’t I tell you. 
mother, that I would take care of you some day ?’ 

“ ‘ Yes, my child, and may God keep my little girl 
in His tender care.’ 

“ The grandmother was greatly troubled, as she 
thought of Blossom going out alone in the city to 
sell her flowers, but the kind-hearted Irish woman, on 
the lower floor, discovering the grandmother’s anxi- 
ety, said that her boy Jimmy should go with Blos- 
som for protection. Jimmy was only eleven years 
old, but very large for his age. He was devoted to 
Little Blossom and she was fond of him ; he was a 
nice-looking boy and very bright ; his hair was red 
but not a brick-red, it was the color of a gold-fish’s 
back and each separate hair seemed to have a mis- 
sion of its own to perform in the way of curling. 
His mouth was large, but his teeth might be the 
envy of a Fifth Avenue belle, so white and even 
were they. His face was freckled but his cheeks 
were round and red, and he had big, honest blue 
eyes, a pleasant voice and nice manners. Those 
trips through the city with Little Blossom were the 
delight of Jimmy’s heart ; he seemed two inches 
taller and had a very protecting air as he walked 
beside her down the narrow street, carrying the 


154 


Miriam’s tower 


portfolio of precious pictures that were to pay the 
rent and feed Little Blossom and the grandmother. 

“ Jimmy was a bootblack by profession, but when 
he had attained to the honorable position of es- 
cort to Little Blossom, he announced to his fond 
mother and his admiring companions, the boys of 
the neighborhood, that he was going out of the 
bootblacking business, as he thought it was not 
respectful to Miss Blossom, for him to escort her 
through the city one day and the next day to stand 
on the corners of the streets yelling, ‘Shine !’ to 
the passers-by. ‘ From now on,’ said Jimmy, ‘ I am a 
newsboy and everybody knows that the newspaper 
business is respectable.’ 

“ The painted flowers were very beautiful but not 
so easy to sell as Blossom had thought. She and 
Jimmy would start out in the morning with the 
portfolio of paintings, exquisite little gems in water 
colors and oil. As she tripped away, rosy and 
hopeful, with a pleasant ‘ Good-morning ! and 
Good-by !” to the people as they passed down the 
narrow street, their prayers for her safety and suc- 
cess followed her out into the jostle and turmoil 
of the great city. But day after day she returned 
pale and weary, and not one picture missing from 
the portfolio. And all along the street, they would 
ask, ‘ What luck, what luck. Miss Blossom ?’ 

“ ‘ No luck to-day,’ she would answer, ‘but I am 
sure that I will sell them to-morrow.’ 

“And just as their last penny was gone, she came 
home one night with an empty portfolio and a few 


LITTLE BLOSSOM 


155 


dollars in her purse. Her eyes were bright and 
her cheeks were flushed and Jimmy’s face was a 
reflection of hers, and they all knew without asking, 
when they saw those two bright faces, that the pic- 
tures were sold. Jimmy waved the empty port- 
folio to the people as they passed along the street. 
Blossom smiled, but said nothing, until she reached 
her own door. 

“‘Look at the blessed darlint,” said Jimmy’s 
mother, ‘she has sold her pictures.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, they are all gone,’ said Blossom joyfully. 
Then running up the stairs, she burst into the room 
where her grandmother was sitting, threw the 
empty portfolio at her feet and the purse into her 
lap, laughing and crying as she embraced her. 
She had found a place where she could sell her 
pictures, but at a mere pittance ; it was barely 
enough for a meagre existence for the two. Be- 
fore the year was ended, they were obliged to 
move to the fourth floor, because the rent was less. 
And at this second moving. Blossom was as blythe 
and merry as at the last. She told the people in 
the house that it was her sixteenth birthday and 
they were going to celebrate the great event by 
taking a trip. 

“‘And we shall not return,’ she said, ‘as my 
health demands a higher altitude, and next year you 
may see us moving out on the roof, where we will 
pitch our tent far removed from the sordid things 
of earth.’ 

“ ‘ She is an angel,’ said the lame woman on the 


156 


Miriam’s tower 


second floor, * That is true, that is true,* echoed 
voices all around her. 

The words reached the ears of Little Blossom 
and the tears sprang to her eyes as she murmured, 
‘ They called me an angel, they believe in me, they 
love me, oh, I must try to be very good !’ 

‘‘ When the rooms were in order, Blossom carried 
her flowers out on the balcony and then called, 
‘ Mother, mother, come out and see what a beau- 
tiful view we have.’ And as the fond mother 
stood beside her with her arm around her slender 
waist, Blossom pointed to the scene spread out 
before them. The church spires and towers of the 
city, touched by the rays of the setting sun, glit- 
tered like silver and there was a glimpse of the 
shining river, and a faint outline of the statue 
upon the island. 

“ ‘ Every night we shall see the light of the torch,’ 
said Blossom. * The world is very beautiful,’ 
mother dear, and God is so good to us.’ 

“ The arm tightened around the sweet, girlish 
form, a tear fell upon the cheek of the mother but 
her heart was so full that she could not speak. And 
thus they stood silently gazing upon the scene be- 
fore them ; the roar of the city mingled with the 
sound of bells, reached their ears, and, as the even- 
ing chimes rose clear and sweet above the rest, the 
face of the girl was illumined. But as the sun 
sank to rest and the towers and spires grew dim 
and gray in the deepening twilight, she shivered 
and said : 


LITTLE BLOSSOM 


157 


‘‘^Let us go in, mother, the balcony is so high 
it makes me dizzy, I seem to feel myself falling, 
falling to the pavement below.’ 

“ ‘ You are tired and nervous my child,’ said the 
mother. ‘ Come in and rest.’ 

“ As they entered the room. Blossom threw her- 
self upon the couch and said, ‘ Now, mother, seat 
yourself in your easy-chair and talk to me about 
my father and mother, tell me the sweet story of 
their lives, beginning with my mother’s childhood, 
tell it just as though I had never heard it before. 
Forget that it is Blossom to whom you are telling 
the story. This is my birthday, so you must humor 
my whim.’ 

“ The mother sat silent for awhile, rocking to and 
fro and gazing into space, a delicate flush over- 
spread her faded cheeks, a soft brilliancy flashed 
into her eyes and a smile of ineffable sweetness 
played about her pale lips. 

‘‘ Blossom, looking into her face, exclaimed, ‘ Oh, 
how beautiful you are !’ 

‘ Thank you, darling, it was the sweet memories 
of the past reflected in my face.’ Then she began 
the story : 

‘‘ ' God sent but one child to Richard and me— 
your mother, our precious May. We named her 
May, because she was born on the first day of that 
flowery month. This one little ewe lamb was the 
joy, the pride of our hearts ; she carried the May 
blossoms in her flower-like face ; her eyes were like 
the violets, her hair like the yellow buttercups, and 


158 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


her skin was like the pink and white star-flowers 
that grew in the mossy old woods back of the dear 
home where Richard brought me, a bride. How I 
loved the old homestead. Richard was born there ; 
it had been in the family many years. The house 
was roomy and pleasant, standing upon a gentle 
slope facing the sunny south. The sloping lawn 
was like velvet, and the graveled walks were bor- 
dered with old-fashioned flowers, pinks, tulips, pan- 
sies and lilies-of-the-valley. Honeysuckle vines 
and wisteria clambered over the broad verandas, 
and the trellises were covered with climbing roses, 
and roses, pink, crimson and white, grew in profu- 
sion everywhere. Under the wide-spreading elms 
and sugar maples were rustic seats, and to the 
branches of the great elm in front of the house 
was fastened little May’s swing. I often watched 
her swinging to and fro, out into the sunshine and 
back into the shade, her golden hair floating on 
the breeze. And oh, her sweet laughter ! it was 
like the music of little silver bells. May being 
our only child, we could not bear to be separated 
from her, so she was educated at home with gov- 
ernesses and masters of music. She was very 
bright and studious ; she loved her books, and she 
excelled in music ; her touch was exquisite and her 
voice was perfection of melody. (You have her 
voice, my Blossom.) The happy years slipped 
away until May’s nineteenth birthday had come. 
A merry group of young girls out on the lawn 
were celebrating the pleasant event ; Richard and 


LITTLE BLOSSOM 


159 


I were seated upon the veranda watching them 
and talking with pride of the beauty and grace of 
our winsome May. * We must have her portrait 
painted/ said Richard, * by the great artist that has 
lately come to the city ; we will go in to-morrow 
and visit his studio.’ 

“ ‘ When Richard and I were married the city 
seemed far removed from the old homestead, but 
the growth of twenty-one years had brought it 
near to us. On clear, still days we could see the 
spires shining in the sunlight and hear the church 
bell faintly ringing.’ 

“ * The next afternoon found us in the studio of 
the great artist. His pictures of faces and figures 
were so life-like that we stood before them in silent 
wonderment. Richard had gone to speak with the 
artist in reference to the portrait. When they re- 
turned together, as soon as my eyes rested upon 
the young artist my heart went out to him, and I 
wished that God had given me a son like this 
young man.” 

‘‘ ‘ Oh, tell me, mother,’ interrupted Blossom, 
* just how he looked at that first meeting.’ ” 

‘“Yes, dear. He was above medium height, 
lithe and slender ; but one could see that his mus- 
cles were firm as steel ; and there was much of 
firmness and much of gentleness in the fine, intel- 
lectual face. His complexion was pale, but 
healthy. The rich blood showed warm and red in 
the sensitive mouth beneath the black mustache, 
his hair was black and wavy, but his eyes were his 


160 


Miriam's tower 


chief beauty. They were large and dark, the lids 
drooped slightly, and the lashes were very long. 
When I looked into his clear eyes, I knew that he 
had nothing to hide, and I caught an expression 
of yearning tenderness and unsatisfied longing, 
that you often see in women’s eyes but seldom in 
the eyes of men. I was taking these observations 
while we talked of the portrait, and when he asked 
me if my daughter was with me, I called her. She 
was standing not far away, absorbed in a beauti- 
ful painting of a young girl reading her first love- 
letter . as she turned and came toward us. her 
cheeks were flushed and there was a dreamy 
look in her violet eyes I had never seen that ex- 
pression upon her face before, and I her mother, 
who had known her for nineteen years was 
startled at this new and exquisite loveliness The 
day was warm and she wore a white muslin dress 
and a broad white hat with a wreath of wild roses, 
and a bunch of wild roses at her belt When I 
presented her to the artist she looked into his face 
an instant, then dropped her eyes before his ad- 
miring gaze and a vivid blush overspread her face, 
even tinging her white throat with a delicate pink. 

I turned to him and caught the tender light in his 
dark eyes, and I knew the end from the beginning. 
For a moment, a jealous pang seized my mother 
heart, then I remembered that it was thus with 
Richard and me. We met, we loved, neither of us 
had loved before, and how perfect was our union. 
There were many sittings in the quiet studio, but 


LITTLE BLOSSOM 


161 


the portrait progressed but slowly. I was always 
there and often wondered if Sidney Waynne 
knew how closely I watched and studied him. I 
knew that May loved him, and long before the 
portrait was finished, I loved him as a son. And 
his worshipful love for May was almost pathetic 
in its unexpressed tenderness. But the time came 
when the portrait was nearly finished ; I shall 
never forget the afternoon of that last sitting. 
The studio was very quiet and the light subdued. 
In the next room a linnet warbled sweetly in his 
gilded cage ; Sidney worked nervously, retouching 
the picture, his eyes were wide and brilliant, and 
there was a dash of red in his cheeks. May was 
as lovely as a dream as she sat with downcast eyes, 
the color coming and going in her delicate face. 
Neither of them had spoken for a half-hour; when 
I heard him say : ‘ Please look up. Miss May,’ and 
as she raised her love-lit eyes, he dropped his pal- 
lette and took a step toward her, then turning 
quickly, he came to me and said, eagerly : ‘ Mother, 
she loves me — will you give her to me ?’ I looked 
at May, her eyes were pleading for him, and I 
said : * Come here, my darling,’ and they knelt at 
my feet, and I laid my fond hands upon their 
heads and blessed their betrothal.’ 

“ ‘ I had not intended that May should be married 
for at least a year, but Sidney pleaded for a speedy 
marriage.’ 

“ ‘When I tell you,’ said he, ‘what a lonely life 
I’ve bad, I know you will not have the heart to 


162 


Miriam’s tower 


withhold from me even a part of my happiness.* 
and this was the story he told me : 

‘ His father was an American, and while travel- 
ing abroad, he met at Genoa a beautiful Italian 
girl, the daughter of an artist. It was love at first 
sight, he married her and brought her to America, 
and she died when Sidney was four years old, and 
two years later his father died. Then the sensi- 
tive, affectionate child was left to the care of a 
guardian — a man of strictest integrity but one who 
had no conception of the child’s nature, ever crav- 
ing for love and tenderness. He saw that the boy 
was well-fed, well-clothed, well-educated, and had 
the best moral training, and, by careful investment 
and judicious handling, he made the most of the 
small fortune that was left to Sidney by his father. 
In doing all of this, he believed that he had con- 
scientiously performed his whole duty to the son 
of his friend.’ 

“ ‘After I heard Sidney’s story, his pleadings for 
a speedy marriage were not in vain. Although 
May said not a word, I knew his wish was hers, 
and then I remembered that I was just nineteen 
when I was married to Richard and our engage- 
ment was brief. So one fair morning in the 
dreamy month of September, they were married in 
the flower-decked parlors of the dear old house, 
where Richard brought me a happy bride, just 
twenty-one years ago that day. It was May’s wish 
to be married on the anniversary of our marriage. 


LITTLE BLOSSOM 


163 




A lovelier bride, a nobler bridegroom never 
plighted their vows at any altar/ 

“ * When they were gone, how silent and lonely 
was the old house. That night Richard and I 
stood looking at the pictured face of our little girl, 
taken years ago, and as the dimpled face smiled 
down upon us, Richard said with a sigh, ‘ Is it 
possible that our little one is a woman now, and a 
wife ? It seems but yesterday when I first looked 
into her baby face and now she is married and 
gone.’ There are only two of us now, my wife, 
the same as when we commenced twenty-one years 
ago — the same and yet how different, for now we 
have with us the sweet memory of all these happy 
years.’ ” 


164 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER XVIL 

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 

Soon the first letter came from the absent ones^ 
and after that there was one every day. I have 
always kept those letters, so full of their new-found 
happiness. When they returned, after several 
weeks’ sojourn in the mountains, how I loved to 
feast my eyes upon their radiant faces and listen 
to the music of their happy voices, as I assisted 
them in fitting up their suite of rooms connected 
with the studio. The rooms were very pleasant^ 
overlooking one of those little flowery parks that 
make the city so pleasant in the summer-time. 
The first year, full of happiness, passed away 
quickly ; and the day following the anniversary of 
their marriage and ours, they sailed for Europe to 
be absent two years. 

‘‘ * Now we are starting on our wedding tour,’ 
said Sidney cheerfully, as we were taking our tear- 
ful farewells. And when they were gone, how 
fervently Richard and I prayed that the winds and 
the waves would be kind to the good ship that 
carried our loved ones across the sea, and when the 
first letter came, telling of their pleasant voyage 
and safe arrival on the other side, we sank upon our 
knees, thanking the kind Father for his watchful 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


165 


care. Before they sailed, they promised to keep a 
journal, writing every day, and once a week we re- 
ceived these journal letters, as we called them. 
They were delightful letters, so full of the person- 
ality of our dear ones, vivid pen pictures of their 
everyday life. And, whether in France, Germany, 
Italy, Spain, or Switzerland, Sidney was always 
pursuing his beloved art, copying from the old 
masters or making sketches of the real people that 
they met in their travels, sketches for future work- 
ing out in the studio at home. In the latter part 
of their second year abroad. Little Blossom was 
born at Genoa, the birthplace of Sidney’s mother, 
and when she was two months old they returned to 
America. They reached home in time for the mar- 
riage anniversary, and, oh, the joy of that reunion, 
after two long years of separation ! When I looked 
upon their dear faces once more, and held my dar- 
ling May’s own baby in my arms, my heart over- 
flowed with praises of gratitude to the kind Father 
for his goodness and tender mercies to me and 
mine. Richard and I could talk of nothing else 
but May’s baby. 

“ ‘ It is more wonderful even than was ours,’ said 
Richard. 

The child was named for me and for Sidney’s 
mother, Ruth Inez ; but she was such a sweet, tiny 
flower, that we always called her Little Blossom. 

** Sidney and May brought with them from foreign 
lands, many rare and beautiful things. Rich tap- 
estries, silken curtains, oriental rugs, costly vases, 


166 


Miriam’s tower 


dainty fans, boxes of sandalwood and rare pieces 
of furniture of carved wood and inlaid work, and 
exquisite statuettes of purest marble, and wonder- 
ful old pottery and grotesque idols from China and 
Japan. 

‘‘ The rich foreign things gave to their suite of 
rooms an air of oriental luxury. And even the 
old house had quite a new air, for many of these 
things were brought expressly for Richard and 
me, and had their places in odd corners and niches, 
and on mantels and tables. 

“ I must describe to you one room of the suite occu- 
pied by Sidney and May. It was a lofty inside room 
having no light except from the hall transoms. It 
had been used as a storeroom for trunks, and all 
sorts of odds and ends, but soon after they returned 
from Europe, May said : 

‘ Now, I have use for my dark room.’ 

She ordered the servants to clear and renovate 
the room, then by her direction the woodwork and 
floor was painted and varnished to resemble pol- 
ished mahogany. The side-walls were tinted a 
soft amber, and the ceiling pale blue, and dividing 
the amber from the blue was a heavy scroll of dull 
red. Upon the floor were oriental rugs and the 
skins of animals, the tawny lion, the striped tiger, 
the spotted leopard and the white bear. The silken 
hangings were of rich oriental colors and designs, 
and there were piles of cushions covered with rich 
fabrics from the East. In one corner stood May’s 
beautiful harp (while abroad she had learned to 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


167 


handle it with skill), and near the harp was Sidney’s 
zithern and guitar, the slender music-stands and a 
tall bronze lamp that shed a soft golden light, that 
met and mingled with the subdued crimson light 
from another lamp in a far corner, where, upon an 
easel, in the lamp’s ruddy reflection, rested an ex- 
quisite painting in statuary, of May and the child. 
Against a background of velvet blackness, the 
forms stood out like purest marble. May’s figure 
was draped, yet half revealed the slender and deli- 
cate outlines. In her arms she held the nude dim- 
pled form of Little Blossom. Her graceful head was 
bent and her eyes fixed upon the child, and there 
rested upon her face an expression of ineffable ten- 
derness. No profane eyes ever dwelt upon this 
picture, only those who had known her long and 
loved her well, beheld its matchless beauty. 

Above the grate, where a low fire was always 
burning, hung a picture of the Madonna and Child. 
It was a divine conception, and in these faces there 
was a faint resemblance to the mother and child 
upon the easel. In all of Sidney’s paintings of fair 
women, there could be traced a likeness to his 
wife, his heart was so full of love for her, that it 
unconsciously manifested itself upon the canvas. 
Beside the grate stood a large antique vase, filled 
with sandalwood chips, and from the golden cen- 
ser, ever swinging before the picture of the Ma- 
donna and Child .there arose a sweet incense from 
the smoking chips within. The censer was sus- 
pended from the ceiling by spiral wires, so fine as 


168 


Miriam’s tower 


to be undistinguishable in the subdued light of the 
shaded lamps, so as it gently swayed to and fro in 
mid-air, it seemed to be swung by invisible hands. 
Little Blossom was the darling of our hearts and 
the pet of the studio. When strangers asked her 
name, she would say : 

“ ‘My name is Rufe, I’se named for my mover, 
but dey calls me httle Blossom (you never called 
me ‘ grandmother,’ dear, it was always ‘ mother,’ 
and Richard was ‘ father,’ not ‘ grandfather,’ and it 
pleased us that it should be that way, for whatever 
Little Blossom did was right). Oh, the happiness of 
those beautiful years! It was too perfect to last. 
God is good to his children ; there is much of hea- 
ven on earth, but sooner or later sorrow comes to 
us all. How often I recall our last days of un- 
clouded happiness ; it was Blossom’s eighth birth- 
day, spent at the old homestead. We had invited 
a number of little friends to celebrate the glad 
event, and their parents came with them. The 
children were having a merry romp out under the 
old elm trees. It was a balmy day in July, the 
sky was softly blue, the birds were singing in the 
tree-tops, and the air was laden with the perfume 
of the roses. Toward evening the children wan- 
dered off to the grove behind the house ; near the 
grove was a lake, and Blossom carried some 
crackers to feed the fishes. They were very tame, 
coming close to the bank and leaping out of the 
water to catch the crumbs that were thrown to 
them. I sent one of the servants to look after the 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


169 


children, for fear of an accident. A half hour 
later she came screaming to the house, and said 
that one of the little girls had fallen into the lake. 
When we reached the bank we saw a little form 
struggling in the water. Richard threw off his 
coat and sprang into the w'ater, and soon succeeded 
in rescuing the little one. At first we thought she 
was dead, but when Richard assured the frantic 
mother that there was life, she became calm and 
worked with Richard as none but a mother can 
work, but it was a long time before the child was 
restored to consciousness. Richard, in caring for 
the child, forgot himself ; but I did not forget him, 
my heart was full of anxiety for him, for I knew 
that the water of the lake was very cold, as it was 
fed by subterranean springs. As soon as it was 
possible for Richard to leave the child I hurried 
him away to change his clothes. I saw that he 
was shivering, and his hands were like ice, but he 
made light of it, and said that he would be all right 
when he had changed his wet garments for dry 
ones. But that night he had a chill and the next 
morning another, and he could not speak above a 
whisper. By noon he had a high fever, and the 
physicians pronounced it pneumonia. I had never 
seen him sick before, and oh, how heavy was my 
heart ! I felt that he would die. Everything of 
nursing and medical skill was done to save that 
precious life. May, Sidney and I stood over him, 
night and day, and I prayed without ceasing, but it 
was all in vain. God 's ways are notour ways. J ust 


170 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


before he died, after bidding our dear ones fare- 
well, he drew me close to him, and said : 

“ ‘ Let your grief, my dear wife, be tempered with 
thankfulness to the kind Father who has spared us 
to each other for more than thirty years, thirty long, 
sweet, perfect years and now I leave you to the 
loving care of our children. Farewell, sweet wife, 
this parting is only for a little while, then a 
blessed eternity together.’ As he ceased speak- 
ing he closed his eyes wearily and without a strug- 
gle, all was ended. And we laid him to rest in 
beautiful Greenwood, now the most sacred spot on 
earth to me. 

‘‘ I will not dwell upon the grief and loneliness 
of the days that followed. My dear ones buried 
their own sorrow and gave to me every comfort of 
loving thoughtfulness and tender care. After this 
affliction we were always together. I spent the 
most of my time with them in the city. They 
would not allow me to stay at the old homestead 
unless Blossom was with me. Oh, what a comfort 
she was to me in those days, so bird-like and merry 
and yet so serious and womanly. During the four 
uneventful years that followed, time had somewhat 
softened our grief, but anew and overwhelming sor- 
row awaited us. For weeks May had not been 
quite well, she was pale and listless and when 
Sidney consulted a physician, he gave her a tonic, 
said it was nothing serious and she would 
soon be herself again. But she did not improve, 
was feverish and restless at night and one morning 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


171 


she was unable to leave her bed. When the phy- 
sician came, he pronounced it typhoid fever, but 
said it was not a severe attack and he would have 
the fever broken in a few days, but he did not suc- 
ceed in breaking the fever so it ran its course of 
twenty-one days. The fever, was always on, but 
never high. She was seldom delirious and suffered 
but little pain. The physician came very often, 
but always said that she was doing nicely ; we 
were anxious but not alarmed. When the fever 
left her she lay very quiet all the afternoon but al- 
ways awake and following us with her eyes and 
smiling so sweetly ; she did not attempt to talk, 
only once she said to Sidney, * Now the fever is 
gone, I shall soon be well again.’ 

“ The doctor came at sundown, looked at her and 
said to me, ‘ increase the stimulant, give it every 
half hour and double the amount.’ 

“ Before nine o’clock, he returned and said, ‘ I 
will stay with you to-night, for a patient needs to 
be watched closely at this crisis, she should sleep 
but in her weak condition, I dare not give her an 
opiate.’ 

“ As he looked at her, I saw that his face was 
troubled and terror seized my heart, turning me 
cold and faint. He saw my sudden pallor and said 
cheerfully, ‘ What she needs now is a long, refresh- 
ing sleep,’ then turning to Blossom, he said, ‘kiss 
your mamma good-night, little girl, and go to bed. 
And you, Mr. Waynne, lie down on the couch, I 
will rest in the adjoining room, we will turn the 


172 


Miriam’s tower 


lamp low and leave the mother to watch. I think 
when all is quiet our patient will sleep.’ 

“ When Blossom kissed her mamma good-night, 
she smiled so lovingly into her face and said, 

* Mamma’s own sweet darling,’ and Blossom never 
heard her voice again. She slept fitfully through 
the night. Occasionally the doctor would come in 
and look at her and tell me to increase the stimu- 
lant and once, when Sidney had left the room for 
a moment, I said to him, ‘ Tell me the truth, doc- 
tor,’ he shook his head sadly and said, ‘ She may 
live until morning.’ 

“ I tried to tell Sidney, but could not. Just as 
the dawn was breaking, she opened her eyes and 
called, ‘ Mother, mother, father is here and I am 
going away with him to a beautiful land. Kiss me 
good-by.’ I held her in my arms a moment, kiss- 
ing the dear face, then she called, * Sidney, Sidney, 
kiss me, dearest.’ As he kissed her, her eyes 
closed and her head fell against his breast. He 
clasped the loved form in his arms, calling her 
name frantically. The doctor, though familiar with 
scenes like this, was moved to tears by Sidney’s 
terrible grief, but he gently loosened his arms and 
laid the white form reverently upon the pillow and 
said, ‘ Be quiet, my brother, your wife is dead.’ 

‘‘ We laid our loved one beside Richard, in beau- 
tiful Greenwood. Sidney never recovered fi-om 
the sudden shock of May’s death ; his reason was 
dethroned and remained that way until the end. 
He lost all knowledge of her death and was ever 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


173 


searching for her. He was gentle and harmless 
and clung to me like a child and could never bear 
to have Blossom out of his sight. How often, at 
my door, in the stillness of the night, have I heard 
his voice calling to me ,out of the darkness, 
Mother ! mother ! are you awake ?* 

“And I would answer, ‘ Yes, my son.’ 

“ Then he would say, in frightened tones, ‘ May is 
gone, I cannot find her.’ 

“ Then I would go out, and taking his cold hand 
in mine, lead him back to his room and talk to him 
soothingly for awhile, telling him that May was 
safe in a beautiful land not far away ; that she 
loved us and was waiting for us there and that by 
and by we would go to her never to be separated 
again. Then he would ask so piteously, ‘ Will it 
be very long, mother ?’ and I would answer, * No, 
my boy, it will only be a little while.’ 

“ I knew that, for him, the separation would not 
be long, as he was growing thinner and paler each 
day, scarcely eating or sleeping and resting not 
from his unwearied search for the lost one. 

“After May’s death I gave up the studio and the 
dear rooms so full of tender associations, and re- 
moved everything to the old homestead, excepting 
a few pictures that I left for sale, needing the 
money that they might bring. Before the year 
ended there was another newly made grave beside 
May’s, in beautiful Greenwood, and just Little Blos- 
som and I were left to each other. A few months 
later a new misfortune came to us. One evening 


174 


Miriam’s tower 


when Blossom and I returned from the city, where 
I had been to look after the sale of the few re- 
maining pictures, we found the old homestead in 
ashes. No one could tell how it happened, the 
servants had only been able to save a few things, 
as the upper part of the house was in flames before 
they discovered it. Blossom and I stood under 
the blackened elms and wept bitter tears for the 
dear old home. I thought that I had insurance but 
found that it had expired a few days before the 
fire. Now I began to fear poverty, I had but little 
money and the pictures were nearly all sold. A 
short time after Richard’s death the bank failed 
that contained nearly all of my money. But Sidney 
said, ‘ Never mind, mother dear, I, with my brush 
can make all the money we need.’ 

I decided to sell the ground where the old 
house stood, as I had no money for rebuilding. Not 
knowing its value, I sold it for much less than its 
worth. Blossom and I went to the city, where we 
lived quite cosily in three little rented rooms 
furnished with the few things that the fire had left 
us. I tried to keep the little money we had, but 
the lace that I could sell would not keep the wolf 
from the door, so it dwindled away until all was 
gone and one day Blossom and I started out to 
hunt cheaper lodgings.’ 

‘ And here we are,’ exclaimed Blossom, spring- 
ing from the couch and throwing her arms around 
the grandmother ; ‘ here we are safe and sound, 
high and dry and we still have each other.’ 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


175 


“ The soft cheek she pressed against the faded 
one was wet with tears, but the voice was as cheer- 
ful as a bird’s in spring-time. The times grew 
better for Blossom and the grandmother ; Blossom 
had found a buyer for her pictures who understood 
something of their value and paid a reasonable 
price for them, and when Blossom told of her good 
fortune to the people of the house, she added 
gleefully, ‘ Perhaps, after all, mother and I will 
not have to move out on the roof next year.’ 

“ It had been Blossom’s habit ever since they 
came to live on the little back street to sing for the 
people every evening before she retired ; when she 
saw how hard their lives were and how few their 
joys, her tender heart was touched with compassion 
for them, forgetting her own misfortunes. It was 
her delight to give them the pleasure of listening to 
her beautiful voice and the sweet notes of her guitar. 
Summer evenings all the people in the neighbor- 
hood, at a certain hour, gathered below her balcony 
to listen to her bird-like voice, the good-night song 
was always a hymn. When the nights grew cold 
the people assembled in the broad hall and on the 
various landings standing, with upturned faces, 
their eyes fixed lovingly upon Little Blossom, pour- 
ing out the sweetness of her soul in these good- 
night hymns. The first winter had passed since 
their removal to the upper floor and one evening 
in the early spring-time, as Blossom upon the bah 
cony was singing to the people below, a man on 
horseback, in the street beyond, hearing her voice, 


176 


Miriam’s tower 


listened for a moment until he located the music, 
then turning his horse, rode into the narrow street 
and slowly traversed its length, listening to the song 
and looking with admiration at the girlish form 
transfigured in the moonlight. As the stranger 
was leaving the street, he met Jimmy hastening to 
join those beneath the balcony ; the man stopped 
him and asked, ‘ Who is the girl singing in yonder 
balcony ?’ 

“ ‘ Why, that is Little Blossom,’ answered Jimmy. 

“ ‘ Little Blossom,’ repeated the man, ‘ that 
sounds very romantjc, but hasn’t she any other 
name ?’ 

“ Well, I reckon she has,’ answered Jimmy, ^ but 
I’m not sure.’ 

“ ‘ When I ask you to-morrow night, right here, 
on this corner, where you will be waiting for me, 
see to it that you do know.’ Then throwing 
Jimmy several pieces of silver he was gone. 

Jimmy gathered up the money and looked at it 
with wide eyes ; he had never been so rich before 
and he immediately began building air castles for 
Little Blossom. 

“ ‘ That is a way-up fellow,’ said Jimmy to him- 
self, ‘ I can tell by his looks and I am sure that he 
is a fine fellow and not a bit stingy and he must be 
awful rich ?’ jingling the silver in his hand, ‘ and 
he is going to fall in love with Little Blossom and 
marry her and she will live in a big mansion on 
Fifth Avenue ; ride in her own carriage and have 
a coachman in a green coat and stove pipe hat, all 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


177 


shiny and she will have silks and velvets and 
diamonds and furs in the winter. Miss Blossom is 
the handsomest girl in this city and she has no 
business living in an old tumble-down house on a 
back street with common folks, but I don’t know 
what we will do without her. Perhaps I will be 
her coachman some day, when I get to be a man 
and that won’t be long, the way I’m growing.’ 

‘‘ Now Jimmy had joined the group before the 
old house and the stranger was forgotten, as he 
listened to Blossom’s good-night hymn. 

“ As the spring days lengthened into summer, 
there was a change in Little Blossom, the mother 
noticed it with anxiety. At times she was radiant, 
with flushed cheeks and eyes brilliant as stars and 
she would sing like a bird from morning till night ; 
at other times she was pale and silent with a 
troubled look in her sweet brown eyes. To the 
mother she was more tenderly affectionate than 
ever and yet she felt that something had come 
between them ; when she spoke of the change to 
Blossom, she would say : 

‘ It is nothing, mother ; it is nothing.’ 

‘‘ But one day, she said with a bright smile and a 
blush, ‘ You will know very soon, mother dear, 
what has changed me, I should not have kept my 
secret from you so long, but you will forgive me 
■when I tell you all.” 


178 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

BETRAYED AND FORSAKEN. 

** The grandmother said nothing more for 
several days but her heart was troubled ; and 
when she again saw Blossom pale and nervous 
with that strange look in her eyes, she put her 
arms around her and said, ‘ Little one, it is not 
right that you should have secrets from your 
mother, tell me, child, what has changed you so, it 
breaks my heart to have you withhold your con- 
fidence from me.’ 

“ Then Little Blossom, burst into tears and said 
between her sobs, ‘ Oh, forgive me, mother ; forgive 
me ! he made me promise to keep the secret, but 
said that he would come and tell you all and ask 
you to give him Little Blossom ; but oh, he is so 
long in coming and my heart is so heavy; it has 
no rest, it is either throbbing wildly with joy or 
beating heavily with pain, because he comes not 
as he promised. Do you understand me, mother ? 
I love him as you loved father and as mamma 
loved papa and I am sure that he loves me as 
father and papa loved you and mamma ; he has told 
me so many times and has made so many sacred 
promises. We are to be married in September, on 
the anniversary of your marriage and mamma’s. I 


BETRAYED AND FORSAKEN 


179 


wished it to be that way and he is not unwilling, 
but the time is drawing near and he should have 
told you long ago.’ 

“ ‘ But, who is this man, my child,’ asked the 
mother. 

“ ‘ It is the man who passed through our street 
on horseback one moonlight evening in the early 
spring, when I was singing on the balcony and he says 
that he loved me then, before he knew my name ; 
and I met him soon after in Central Park. Don’t you 
remember, one day last spring, when I went to the 
park with Jimmy Dolan ? You know the blessed 
boy had earned a little money and could not be 
happy unless he spent some of it on Miss Blossom, 
taking her to the park ? It was a beautiful day, I 
was sitting alone in a shady nook ; Jimmy was a 
little way off looking at the swans when Arthur 
came and spoke to me ; he was so noble-looking 
and so respectful and so much older than I, that it 
did not seem wrong to listen to him and then he 
was very frank, telling me that he had thought of 
me continually since that night when he heard me 
singing on the balcony and before we parted, he told 
me that he loved me (you know my papa loved 
mamma as soon as he looked into her face) and he 
planned another meeting and in the few hours 
that we were together my heart had gone out to 
him ; and I not on/y promised to meet him again, 
but to keep our meeting a secret for awhile, but I 
told him that I would not come without Jimmy 
and he answered quickly, ‘ Bring him by all means.’ 


180 


Miriam’s tower 


After that, whenever I went to sell my pictures, he 
would meet me and give me long drives behind his 
snow-white horses or he would take me to art 
galleries, concert halls, museums and to elegant 
caf^s for lunch ; or we would wander through the 
parks and he was always talking of our future, our 
wedding tour abroad, where we would visit all the 
places that papa and mamma visited while there, 
and he talked of our home life, of the beautiful 
home that you would share with us. While with 
him I was in heaven ; he had the power to make 
me forget everything but him, but when away 
from him it was not so, my heart was often 
troubled. I was ever urging him to come and see 
you and he always promised to come very soon. 
To-night I shall write and tell him that I have told 
you all, then I know that he will come. He 
thought it was so sweet to keep the secret as long 
as possible, but now it is no longer a secret. I 
wish I had told you long ago. Can you forgive 
me, mother, dear?’ 

Yes, my child, it is easy to forgive you, you are 
so young and know so little of the world, but 1 
will never forgive him, if he is untrue to you, nei- 
ther will God forgive him.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, mother ! he loves me and could not be un- 
true to me after all his sacred promises.’ 

“ That night Little Blossom sent her letter, a sweet 
letter, full of perfect trust and containing no re- 
proaches. She told him that the mother now 


BETRAYED AND FORSAKEN 


181 


shared their secret, and asked him to come and see 
her on the following Sabbath day. 

‘‘ Now that Blossom had opened her heart to the 
mother, and the letter was gone, her heart was 
light. once more and she filled the old house with 
music and sunshine. 

“ Saturday night had come ; the little sitting- 
room was very neat and pleasant, the mother was 
preparing the frugal meal. Blossom had spread the 
snowy cloth on the little round table and placed 
upon it a few pieces of dainty china, the relics of 
former days. A little lute was playing in her 
heart and her lips caught the sweet love notes and 
warbled them forth as she performed her simple 
duties. Her song was interrupted by a voice just 
outside the open door, calling ‘ Miss Blossom !’ 
very softly. It was Jimmy ; and as she stepped 
out into the hall he handed her a letter. She 
pressed his hand and said : 

‘Thank you, little friend. Blossom will always 
remember you.’ And as she heard the voice of her 
grandmother calling her to tea, she slipped the 
precious letter into her bosom. It lay over her 
heart and oh, how happy she was to feel it there as 
she sipped her tea and chatted blythely with the 
mother. It was happiness enough for the present 
to know she had the letter, she would not read it 
until the mother retired. It was not a heavy let- 
ter, and she pictured to herself its contents, just a 
few lines telling her at what hour they might ex- 
pect him the next day ; then again, and for the 


182 


Miriam’s tower 


hundredth time, she pictured the meeting between 
her loved ones, how proud and happy she wouM be 
to see them so pleased with each other. Then her 
mind wandered on and on through flowery laby- 
rinths of the blissful future. She was brought 
back to the present by the voice of the grand- 
mother, saying : 

“ ‘ I believe I will retire early to-night, dear, and 
try to sleep off the headache that is threatening me.’ 

“‘That is right, mother dear, you must not have 
the headache, to-morrow,’ blushing rosily, then 
throwing her arms around her mother’s neck, and 
pressing her cheeks to hers, she said : ‘ Oh, mother, 
I am so happy to-night, so happy.’ 

“ The mother held the sweet form tightly pressed 
to her heart for a moment, then said brokenly^ 
‘ May God grant that you will always be happy, 
my little one,’ then kissing her fondly, she said 
good-night, and left her alone with her letter. 

“ She dropped into the mother’s arm-chair and 
drew the letter from her bosom and kissed it, her 
cheeks were red, and a bright smile of expectancy 
played around her mouth, as she eagerly tore open 
the envelope. She had only read a few lines when 
the color left her cheeks, and when she had fin- 
ished the brief letter, her face was ghastly white. 
For hours she sat rigid in her chair without mov- 
ing, the fatal letter crushed in her little cold hands 
and a look of hopeless agony in her wide brown 
eyes. When the clock struck three she arose, left 
her chair and staggering across the room, seated 


BETRAYED AND FORSAKEN 


183 


herself at the secretary and wrote a few lines with 
trembling hands, placed it in an envelope and sealed 
it, then crept shivering to her narrow bed. Her 
lips moved continually but only God heard the 
whispered words, ‘ Betrayed and forsaken, betrayed 
and forsaken.’ 

“ The next morning when the mother entered the 
sitting-room, she found Blossom sleeping heavily, 
and noted with alarm the deathly whiteness of her 
face. She noiselessly prepared the simple break- 
fast. And when Blossom awoke, the mother was 
sitting by the bed looking anxiously into her pale 
face, she kissed her and asked, ‘ Are you sick, my 
child ’ 

“ ‘ Yes, my head aches, feel how it throbs, and I 
have a pain here,’ placing her hand over her 
heart. 

“‘You must lie still,’ said the mother, ‘and I 
will bring you some tea.* 

“ She drank the tea but refused the food that 
was offered her. She lay quiet until noon, then 
arose and put on her dainty white wrapper, and 
lay upon the couch all the afternoon. The mother 
had no suspicion that it was anything but physical 
weakness. How could it be anything else ? The 
night before she was as blythe as a bird, it was just 
a headache and pain in her chest, she had been 
painting too steadily. 

“ ‘ She shall paint no more for a week,’ said the 
grandmother to herself. 

“ At noon Blossom drank her coffee but ate no 


184 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


dinner, at night she drank her tea, but ate no sup- 
per. When the mother expressed anxiety, she 
would say : 

‘ Don’t worry, mother dear, I shall be well to- 
morrow. 

“ While the mother was clearing the table. Blos- 
som walked out into the hall and leaning over the 
balusters, she called Jimmy, and he came bounding 
up the stains, and as soon as he saw her face, he 
said : 

“ ‘ Oh, Miss Blossom, you are sick.’ 

‘ I am not well to-day,’ she answered, then tak- 
ing Jimmy’s hand in hers, she looked long and 
earnestly into his honest blue eyes, and asked, 

‘ Jimmy, do you love me ?’ 

‘‘ ‘ You know I do. Miss Blossom.’ 

‘ Then promise me that you will never tell the 
secret that you have kept for me all of these months, 
promise me that whatever happens, you will keep 
my secret as long as you live. Now raise your 
hand, Jimmy, and promise.’ 

“ He raised his hand, and looking into Blossom’s 
eyes, said solemnly, ‘ I promise never to tell the 
secret, never while I live,, wild horses could not 
drag it from me.’ 

Then she gave him the note she had written 
the night before, and said, ‘give it to him to-mor- 
row,’ then kissed his forehead and went back to 
her couch, where she lay quietly until nine o’clock, 
when the mother said, ‘ Blossom, our friends are 
waiting down in the hall for their good-night hymn. 


BETRAYED AND FORSAKEN 


185 


I will tell them that you are sick and cannot sing 
to-night.’ 

“ ‘ If you please, mother,’ but before she had 
spoken a word to the people below. Blossom stood 
beside her and said, ‘ I have never disappointed 
them and I will not to-night.’ 

“ She clasped her hands together and raised her 
eyes to heaven and began singing in a tremulous 
voice ; 


“ Jesus lover of my soul, 

Let me to Thy bosom fly, 

While the nearer waters roll. 

While the tempest still is high. 

“ Here there was a pause and every face below 
was upraised to the white, girlish form, and as they 
listened breathlessly, she burst forth in pleading 
tones : 

“Hide me, oh, my Saviour, hide ! 

Till the storm of life is past. 

Safe into the haven guide. 

Oh, receive my soul at last. 

“ Again she paused, and the women began sob- 
bing in the hall below, when she heard their sobs, 
she looked down upon them and they never forgot 
that tender, loving look. As she began singing 
again, there were tears in her eyes : 

“Other refuge have I none ; 

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee; — 


186 


Miriam’s tower 


“ Then raising her voice in piteous supplication : 

“ Leave, oh, leave me not alone, 

Still support and comfort me. 

All my trust on Thee is stayed. 

All my help from Thee I bring ; 

Cover my defenceless head 

With the shadow of Thy wing.” 

“ While the last notes quivered in the air she said 
‘ good-night ’ and was gone. The grandmother 
was weeping, but Blossom’s eyes were dry, and as 
she wiped the mother’s cheeks, she said tenderly, 
* don’t cry, mother, dear, I will be well and happy 
to-morrow,’ then they kissed each other and separ- 
ated for the night. 

“ For hours Blossom sat pale and silent in the 
mother’s great chair but finally she arose, drew the 
fatal letter from her bosom and held it in the flame 
of the lamp until it was consumed. Then for a 
long time she stood before the portrait of her 
father and mother, gazing tearfully into their pic- 
tured faces, while she repeated these words o’er 
and o’er. 

“ ‘ Papa, mamma, do you still love your Little 
Blossom? Your poor little girl, betrayed and for- 
saken, betrayed and forsaken ?’ 

“ All day, as she lay upon the couch, her eyes had 
rested almost continually upon the pictures of the 
Madonna and the Magdalene hanging over the 
mantel, and now she stood before them, her hands 
raised in supplication, while in agonized tones she 
cried : 


BETRAYED AND FORSAKEN 


187 


“ ‘ O mother of Christ ! Oh, Magdalene, can you 
see and pity poor Little Blossom to-night ? Mag- 
dalene, of whom so much was forgiven, stand close 
to the gate and lead your little sister to the pity- 
ing Christ. Oh ! I am so weary, so weary of this 
aching heart ; I ask not for a jeweled crown, or a 
mansion white and fair, but only to rest, to rest 
in His loving arms.’ 

“ With one last despairing look at the pictured 
faces on the wall, she dragged herself wearily to 
the open window and stepped out upon the bal- 
cony ; the night was cool and calm, far out in the 
city a bell was tolling the midnight hour. At the 
last stroke of the bell, she raised her eyes to the 
silent stars and cried : 

“ ‘ Oh, Father ! forgive him, forgive him, and 
forgive and receive the spirit of your erring child.’ 

“ Then she leaned far out over the balcony, there 
was a low cry of terror, a flutter of white in the 
air, a dull thud upon the pavement below and all 
was ended here for Little Blossom. 

“ There are two more graves in beautiful Green- 
wood, the graves of Little Blossom and the grand- 
mother. 

“ A man of wealth and influence in the great 
city, one who lives in a gilded palace, a mockery 
of home, because love dwells not there, often 
wends his way to Greenwood and lays costly flow- 
ers upon the grave of Little Blossom ; and stand- 
ing there, with grim Remorse, the companion that 
never leaves him, in his heart he knows that all of 


188 


Miriam’s tower 


love and sweetness that had ever come into his life 
is buried in the grave at his feet. And wherever 
he turns his guilty eyes there ever appears before 
him this one word ‘ MURDERER ' in letters of 
blood. 

“ There are others who come with loving hearts, 
bringing their offerings of simple flowers, they are 
the people from the narrow street where Little 
Blossom and the grandmother lived and died. 
They stand reverently before the graves and talk 
in subdued voices of their beautiful lives and of 
their tragic deaths. 

“ Was it not tragic that the grandmother should 
die of a broken heart, when she looked upon the 
dead form of Little Blossom ? The patient, suffer- 
ing heart could endure no more of sorrow. And 
they talk of Jimmy, who pined away and died of 
grief for Little Blossom. They never knew that it 
was not grief alone that killed Jimmy, but that ter- 
riblesecret gnawing at his tender heart. None but 
he on the little street, ever dreamed that Blossom’s 
death was not an accident and poor Jimmy exag- 
gerated his part in the bringing about of the trag- 
edy. Could he have shared the secret with his 
mother he would not have died, but bearing the 
burden of it alone wore his life away. 

“ One day, a little girl, standing by the graves, 
said softly : 

How surprised Little Blossom must have been, 
when the grandmother came and took her by the 
hand and led her through the white gate into the 


BETRAYED AND FORSAKEN 


189 


white city and how pleased she must have been 
when Jimmy came and said, ‘I loved you so much, 
Little Blossom, that I could not stay away from 
you any longer/ 

“ And still they come and go, the guilty man from 
his palace and the loving friends from the little 
back street. The weeping willow is still waving 
over their graves, the soft rustling of the leaves, 
the sighing of the breezes mingling with the song 
of the birds, is a sweet requiem chanted over the 
forms sleeping so peacefully side by side under the 
grassy mounds/’ 


190 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER XIX. 

ONE MORNING. 

How beautiful the garden is, this morning,*’ 
said Hope as she and Miriam wandered along the 
shady paths. 

‘‘Yes, but I have no fountains,” said Miriam 
regretfully, “ all traces are lost of the fountains 
described in my precious old manuscript, as hav- 
ing once belonged to the chateau. No garden is 
complete without a fountain. How well I re- 
member the beautiful fountain called Egeria in the 
Fields Elysian. In the centre of the fountain, 
gleaming through silvery spray, is the sculptured 
form, in purest marble, of the nymph Egeria, who 
for love of King Nurma pined away, weeping, weep- 
ing until she was changed into a fountain. I wish 
I were a fountain at the foot of the Shining Heights 
in the Fields Elysian.” 

“ If you were a fountain,” said Hope, “ I would 
sit beside you night and day weeping my life away 
to tears that would flow and mingle with the bright 
waters that once were Miriam.” 

“Then the girls kissed each other, laughing 
softly, but there were tears in Miriam’s eyes and 
as they strolled along, she sang in subdued tones, 
this pathetic little song : 


ONE MORNING 


191 


•* In my sweet dream I saw his face last night. 

In his dear eyes there beamed a tender light. 

I murmured, “ Love without you life is drear ;** 
Then on his cheek there fell a precious tear — 

A little priceless tear. 

This little tear washed all my grief away ; 

And changed my darkness into perfect day ; 
Dispelled the gloom and filled my heart with cheer 
As on his cheek, I saw that pearly tear — 

That little priceless tear. 

This wondrous tear, that fell from his dear eyes. 
Swept open wide the gates of paradise. 

No gem of earth, to me was half so dear, 

Nor pearl of ocean as that one bright tear — 
That little priceless tear.” 

They were standing before the ruined chateau 
when Miriam finished her song. 

‘‘ And Hope said, “ One never grows tired of 
these picturesque ruins. Nature is a true artist, 
look how gracefully she drapes her vines over the 
broken columns ! and how artistic is that gray old 
arch, with its portieres of ivy-fringed with tendrils 
of delicate green. See how she has trained her 
vines over the crumbling walls and all the fallen 
stones are imbedded in green turf and overspread 
with velvet mosses.” 

“ Yes,” answered Miriam, “ nature has been very 
kind to the old chateau. These ruins have a mys- 
tic charm for me. I believe that the spirits of my 
ancestors haunt this familiar spot. How often, in 


192 


Miriam’s tower 


the stillness of moonlit nights, when the veil was 
lifted from my spiritual eyes, have I seen shadowy 
forms flitting among the ruins of the old chateau ; 
and how often in the twilight hour, when seated in 
the midst of the ruins upon the broken stairway, 
my spiritual ears have been attuned to catch faint 
strains of music, and to hear whispering voices all 
around me. And one voice so caressing, I believe, 
is the spirit-voice of my mother speaking to her 
lonely child. The mother whose living voice I 
never heard ; the sweet mother who gave her life 
for mine.” 

Come, Miriam,” interrupted Hope, “ let’s go 
out into the sunshine. I am afraid that a whole 
troop of ghosts will appear to us here in the broad 
daylight ; I am not fond of ghosts.” 

Then Miriam laughed and said, “ I love to have 
them whisper in my ears.” 

When the girls left the garden they took the 
narrow path that leads to the lake, and when they 
reached the shore, Hope seated herself upon the 
ground beneath a wide-spreading willow, and 
Miriam, half reclining upon the grassy slope at her 
feet, looked up into her dreamy face, and finally 
she asked : 

“ Tell me, Hope, of what are you thinking ?” 

I was thinking of ‘ Pandora’s Box.’ ” 

“ But why of ‘ Pandora’s Box ’?” 

Because in my dreams last night Morpheus 
brought me a veritable Pandora’s Box, with only 
this difference : The evils that my box contained 


ONE MORNING 


193 


destroyed each other, only one escaping, and in 
the bottom of the box was Joy instead of Hope.” 

Miriam was sitting upright now, her bright eyes 
fixed on Hope’s face. “ Morpheus is wise,” said 
she. “ He knew that you would share your treas- 
ure with Miriam, and he also knew that she had 
Hope ever at her side, but that Joy had forsaken 
her.' Then sinking back on the turf, with a little 
sigh of satisfaction, she said, “Now I will listen to 
the dream.” 


pandora’s box. 

“ It was a perfect day and I had just returned 
from a stroll across the meadows, and as I entered 
my room in Miriam’s tower, I saw a mysterious- 
looking box standing upon the table. It was fas- 
tened securely with strong cords, and while un- 
tying the cords I discovered several small holes 
in the cover of the box. As with trembling fingers 
I raised the lid a few inches, two large red lizards 
escaped from the box and darted across the floor, 
hiding themselves in a fur rug. As I stood look- 
ing at the box, afraid to again raise the lid, it was 
slowly raised from the inside, and a pair of bright 
eyes peered out at me for an instant, then a 
strange little animal leaped out upon the floor, and 
springing upon a chair, he turned looking at me 
with sharp, inquisitive eyes. He was a little, sleek, 
brown creature, with a bushy tail, pointed ears 
standing erect, a sharp nose and a pair of bright 
eyes set close together, and those eyes fascinated 


194 


MIRIAM S TOWER 


me. They were sly and sinister in expression, and 
they seemed to say : 

“ ‘ Will you have me for a friend or a foe ?’ 
While looking at this strange animal, I heard a 
fluttering sound in the box, and when I raised the 
lid, out flew a black bird and perched himself upon 
the window bracket near the ceiling, then folding 
his wings, he looked down with sombre eyes upon 
the animal in the chair beneath. While he, in turn, 
stood alert, showing his sharp white teeth as he 
looked at the bird with baleful eyes. Again from 
the box came the sound of fluttering wings. I 
cautiously raised the lid, when a white bird perched 
itself upon the edge of the box, ruffled its snowy 
plumage and burst into song, and such entrancing 
notes I hadnever heard before. But, suddenly, his 
songwas changed to a cry of terror, and he dropped 
back into the box just as the black bird swooped 
down to destroy him. I bought a gilded cage for 
my white bird, a cage within a cage, so that noth- 
ing could harm him. I named him little Joy. I 
fed him with the daintiest food and hung his cage 
among the flowers in a sunny window, and day 
after day the wild sweet melody of his song made 
me forget the lizards hiding in the rugs, and the 
sly, sleek beast that ever watched the evil bird 
that brooded o’er my sunlit room. I could have 
killed these unwelcome guests or driven them 
away, but I would not, because they were sent to 
me with my singing bird. One day, as the lizards 
were darting from one rug to another, the black 


ONE MORNING 


195 


bird swooped down, caught one of them and swal- 
lowed it, and barely escaped from the animal that 
sprang upon him, tearing the long quills from his 
tail. A few days later, the bird caught the other 
lizard, this time the animal was too quick for him. 
He fastened his teeth in the neck of the fluttering 
bird and leaped through the open window, and I 
saw them no more. But my white bird was still sing- 
ing in his gilded cage, filling my heart with joy 
and my room with melody.” 


19G 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER XX. 

MIRIAM. 

The little tower still rears its vine-draped walls 
in the midst of the shady garden beside the ruins 
of the old chateau. The birds are still flitting 
through the open turrets, building their nests and 
singing their songs in the waving tree-tops. The 
lake, as of yore, r. fleets the azure by day, and the 
starry dome by night ; and in the leafy aisles of 
the old forest can be heard the whispering voices. 
The daisy-starred meadows and purple hills are 
ever smiling in the sunlight, and the palms are 
still waving on the Shining Heights above the 
white castle enveloped in its silvery mists. The 
years are slipping by ; cheerless years to Miriam, 
but for Hope, the sweet companion who never 
forsakes her. In the distance, from the window 
of her lonely tower, Miriam often sees, with tear- 
ful eyes, a once-loved form ever followed by the 
ghostly shadow. When the days are darkest, the 
strange bird, still perched above the picture of the 
Madonna, sings his sweetest songs to cheer her 
solitude. But there is a room within her heart 
that no ray of light, no word of cheer or strain of 
melody can reach. This room is the innermost 
sanctuary of the Holy of Holies of her heart. It 


MIRIAM 


197 


is called the throne-room. Its walls are of pearl, 
and its floor is inlaid with precious stones, but 
they sparkle not, and give forth no lustre in the 
darkness. No ray of light from the outside world 
can penetrate this room ; but when the king was 
on his throne, the love-light in his jeweled eyes 
filled all the room with radiance. But the throne 
is empty now, and upon the floor lie the fragments 
of a shattered idol. 


198 


Miriam’s tower 


CHAPTER XXL 
hope’s vision. 

It was not a vision of the night that Hope 
beheld from the western balcony, but a fair vision 
of the sunny morn. The sky was like sapphire, so 
radiantly blue. The dew-drops lay like gems upon 
the flowers, the foliage and the velvet lawn. The 
trees were full of little singing birds and down in 
the garden stood sweet Miriam ; her white clinging 
garments seemed to caress her graceful form. She 
was gazing down the broad white road. Again she 
wandered with her lover through the mazy wind- 
ings of the park. She heard the music of his voice 
once more ; she saw the fountains playing in the 
sunlight ; she scented the rare perfume of the 
flowers and the song of the oriole fell sweetly on 
her ears. The sad, sad days that followed, were 
forgotten. She lived again. As she stood there, 
lost in this fair vision of the past, Hope, from her 
balcony, saw a man walking slowly toward the 
tower, followed by a black shadow. 

“ Ah !” said she, how large the shadow has 
grown since I saw him last.” 

As the man drew near, he saw Miriam standing 
with clasped hands, her enraptured face turned 
toward the Shining Heights, and as he stopped to 


hope’s vision 


199 


look at her, his proud face softened, the cynical 
expression was changed to infinite tenderness, and 
Hope, in her vision, could look into his soul and 
read his secret thoughts. First she saw all the 
falseness, the blackness of his life since his deser- 
tion of Miriam, and she saw the change that took 
place in his heart when he looked upon her pure 
face again. Suddenly he was revealed to himself ; 
and saw his black soul in contrast to her white soul 
and saw his life in contrast to the pure life of the 
woman he had scorned and. terrified at the revela- 
tion, he opened the gate, entered the garden and 
stood before Miriam, and his soul cried out to her : 

Oh, Miriam, Miriam, forgive ! forgive ! I am 
not worthy that even your shadow should fall 
across my yath. But your God, whom I have de- 
nied, hath said, ‘ Though your sins are as scarlet, 
they shall be made white as wool.’ Oh, Miriam ! I 
am not worthy to touch even the hem of your 
garment ; but if God can forgive, cannot you for- 
give, sweet Miriam ?” 

As he stood before her, pleading for forgiveness, 
her face, first pitiful, became illumined with a great 
and holy joy and the black shadow becoming 
luminous, enveloped their forms, hiding this rec- 
onciliation from mortal sight. 

And Hope watched them as they left the garden 
and wandered hand in hand down the broad white 
road ; and as they neared the park, Hope saw, 
standing on either side of the open gateway, two 
forms in shimmering white. It was Peace and 


200 


Miriam’s tower 


Content. And she saw them following Miriam and 
her lover, not by the winding paths, but up the 
straight white path that leads to the mountain of 
Love’s Consummation, And she watched them 
winding, winding, up, up the Shining Heights, until 
they were lost in the silvery mists that hung low 
upon the castle walls. 


THE END, 



SD-l „„ 


PROSE AND POEM 

By HARRIET LORETTA KNAPP 


Miriam’s Tower i 

Echoes from the Prairie | 

and the Hills j 

Rhymes for the Children \ 


WICHITA PUBLISHING CO. | 

306 Sedgwick Block. WICHITA. KANS. j 



THE MC CORMICK PRESS. WICHITA. 
















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